


Expecting

by itchyfingers



Series: Richard and Layla [7]
Category: Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Sex, new marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Layla's pregnant. Now what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Blink of an Eye

Layla’s nose wrinkled as the hard plastic wand prodded even higher, jabbing into what felt like her ovary. The transvaginal ultrasound wand might look like a vibrator, but it definitely wasn’t as fun. Of course, she hadn’t used a vibrator in almost a year. Even when Richard was away filming, his voice and her fingers had always been enough. Had it really been less than a year since she met Richard? Thoughts of the last year of her life swept through her like a whirlwind, most of them with Richard at the eye of the storm.

His thumb stroked over the bridge of her nose, smoothing out the wrinkles. Richard’s hand was resting on top of her head, his fingers loosely woven through her curls. Neither one had said out loud how nervous they were about today’s appointment, the first meeting with the obstetrician, but they both kept touching each other, and as the doctor poked and prodded Layla and peered at the monitor that neither one of them could see, Layla’s hand tightened around his. Minutes ticked by and each beat of her heart started to hurt as anticipation slowly turned into dread.

The doctor finally turned to them, her smile warm and friendly. “Would you like to see your babies?”

“Babies?” Layla echoed in confusion.

“Babies,” the doctor confirmed, her smile widening.

“Babies?” Richard asked, the last syllable becoming extra sibilant as he dragged out the ess.

The doctor nodded and turned the monitor around so they could both see it. “Here is the first fetal pole,” she pointed at one little grey blob against the dark background. “And here is the other.” A second jelly bean looking blob. “They aren’t very exciting to look at yet, but those are your two babies.”

Richard rubbed his cheeks, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen.”

Layla stretched her hand over her stomach as she stared at the two little pixelated grey masses. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but she didn’t know what to say. She looked up at Richard, looking for guidance, for his reaction, for something steady to lay hold on in this monumental moment of change.

He was leaning forward, staring at the lentil sized dots on the screen with the same intensity he had demonstrated reading every book on pregnancy he could get his hands on for the last two weeks. “The little flicker, that’s their hearts?”

“Yes. Would you like to hear their heartbeats?”

“Yes,” he choked out as Layla nodded hurriedly.

“Here’s baby A.” Layla winced as the wand shifted position and Richard smoothed his thumb over the bridge of her nose again. A sound like a distant herd of running horses filled the room. Layla closed her eyes as the whooshing washed over her. After a bit the doctor said, “That’s about 153 beats per minute.”

“And that’s good?” Richard asked.

“That’s perfect.”

Layla squeezed his hand and he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss. He kept her hand there as the doctor said, “This is baby B.” The sound filled the room again, the slightest bit slower. “That’s 151 beats per minute. Nice and healthy.”

Layla listened for a minute and tears filled her eyes. Richard carefully wiped away the ones the escaped. “So, what’s the likelihood of a miscarriage at this point?” she asked, the fear from last time haunting this moment.

“There’s lots of things that go into determining likelihood of miscarriage. You’re under thirty, healthy, only one miscarriage, you conceived easily, we’ve confirmed heartbeat in the healthy range, and those are all good signs. Paternal age is a bit of a risk, but right now, taking that all into account, I’d estimate less than five percent.”

Layla  nodded, the fist around her heart relaxing slightly. Five percent wasn’t bad. Her mind raced ahead, trying to cope with the sudden change to the plans she had made. “And with twins, there are additional risks with the pregnancy, right?”

“A few. We’ll schedule you for additional appointments and keep an eye on things, but there’s no reason to expect anything other than a healthy pregnancy as long as you get the rest and nutrition you need. A lot of mothers of multiples have additional morning sickness, but not all of them. The biggest change is that your pregnancy probably won’t last as long. Our goal is to get you to at least 32 weeks. With a singleton we aim for 37.”

She blinked several times. Thirty two weeks? As a goal? So maybe not even that long. Two months gone from the schedule she had made. Would the house even be done by then? They had been hoping to remove at some point in August, but she couldn’t imagine trying to deal with that insanity with two babies in tow. And what would this do to Richard’s shooting schedule? Peter was talking about wanting them all back in New Zealand for pick-ups in May. And then this would wreak havoc with her schedule at work. She’d have to completely rework the timeline she had put together for training someone to fill in for her while she was gone. “I guess this means I’m not going to New York Fashion Week, then.”

“When’s that?” Dr. Olson asked.

“Second week in September.”

The obstetrician laughed and shook her head. “You wouldn’t have been going anyway. No doctor worth the salt in a packet of crisps would’ve let you fly across an ocean two weeks before your due date.”

“Really?” Layla had planned on working until she went into labor.

“Yes. I’m not going to want you to go anywhere beyond a few hours from London once it gets to July. If we can get you to the end of August before you give birth, I’ll be very happy.”

Richard watched Layla’s eyes and thoughts turn inward. He rubbed his fingers against her scalp as he talked to the doctor. “Are there any additional restrictions?”

“Not at this point. Take your pre-natals, limit your caffeine, eat healthy, plenty of sleep and water. You’re going to be just fine.” She patted Layla’s hand.

Layla looked up at Richard and heat filled her cheeks. “Can we still have sex?”

“Yep. Don’t do anything that hurts, and don’t blow air directly into the vagina. Things might change in late pregnancy depending on if we need to limit your activity, but go ahead and have lots of sex. It’s good for you and the babies won’t notice.”

“Babies,” Layla said, wonder in her voice.

“Babies.” She smiled. “I’m going to give you two a few minutes together to process the news, and then I’ll be back and we can go over some dietary information and I’ll answer any other questions you might have.”

She left and Layla sat up on the exam table and arranged the examination gown over her knees. Richard took her hands and her head fell forward. She rubbed her fingertips over her forehead.

“What are you thinking, love?”

“I need new bras.”

Richard chuckled. “That’s what you’re thinking right now?”

“They’ve already gotten too big for my bras now and they’re going to keep getting bigger and _I’m_  going to keep getting bigger. I’m going to be huge and bulky and my clothes won’t fit and  _we’re_  not going to fit. You aren’t going to be able to cuddle me because I’m going to be enormous–,”

Richard had heard enough, and her words were cut off with a muffled mmmf as his lips pressed against hers. He wrapped his arms around her and one hand closed around the back of her head. Their heads tilted in opposite directions as he opened her lips to him and soothed her worries with his tongue. When her spine had gone from rigid to melting against him, he clasped her face in his hands. “You and I will  _always_  fit, Layla.”

“I’m going to be so big,” she whispered.

“My arms are big enough to hold you and both babies at the same time.”

She shook her head. “I’m gonna get stretch marks.”

“Tiger stripes. And I’ll oil your belly every night.”

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, her eyes narrowed. “Does that work?”

“I don’t care. You won’t be able to keep my hands off of you, sweetness.”

She rested her forehead against his chest and he stroked her back. “I don’t know if I can do this. I mean, one baby was scary enough, but two? What do I do if they run in opposite directions?”

“I’ll chase down one and you go after the other one. We’ll have time to work these things out before they can run.” His chuckle rumbled through his chest and into her body. “If I remember correctly, they’re fairly immobile when they come out.”

Layla managed half a laugh. “I’m scared, Richard.”

“So am I a little bit, but we’re going to do this together. We’ll figure it out. We both have siblings and friends with children. We can read books and things on the internet and ask a pediatrician and then do what feels right and we’ll learn as we go.”

Layla spread her hands over her stomach. “I just want everything to be perfect for them. I want to be a good mum.”

“You’re going to be great.”

She looked up at him, her hands still resting over her stomach. “We have enough love for two, right?”

He clasped her face in his hands again. “Absolutely.” His kiss on her forehead was a blessing.

“I’m probably going to have to start wearing flats at some point.”

He smiled and his blood pressure dropped a few points. She was talking about new shoes. The initial crisis was over. “Probably.”

“They’re not going to have matching names.”

And now she was on to the babies. Her mercurial train of thought always kept him on his toes. “Alright.”

“And I’m not going to dress them in matching outfits.” She waved a finger at him, as if he had brought up the idea.

He caught her finger in his teeth and scraped his teeth against it gently as he let it go with a kiss on the tip. “I would prefer that you didn’t.”

She tapped the same finger against her lips. “Can we buy baby shoes?”

“After we’re done here, we’ll go buy you new bras and some cute flats and two pairs of baby shoes and then we’ll go out to dinner and celebrate. We’ll see if the doctor approves a glass of champagne for tonight.”

Layla smiled up at him and he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Babies, Richard.”

He nodded. “Babies.”


	2. Olives

Layla came back out of the bedroom, much more comfortable now that she’d changed out of her work clothes and into one of Richard’s t-shirts and yoga pants. She wasn’t having problems with heels yet, but anything with a set in waistband or a fitted top was probably going to get sorted out of her closet this weekend. She’d thought she would have a few more weeks before having to undertake that project, but growing two instead of one seemed to be speeding up everything.

She plopped down on the sofa next to Richard and he handed her a bowl of Kalamata olives. For some reason, the briny fruit was one of the few things that could settle her stomach, and they’d taken to keeping some handy wherever she was at home.

“How was your day, love?” Richard asked as she let her head droop against his shoulder.

“Long. Tiring. Got a few speculative looks when I turned down a glass of champagne at the launch this evening. People are going to start wondering what’s going on soon.”

“We should tell our families first I think.” He picked up his glass of wine and Layla intercepted it on the way to his mouth.

“I just want a sniff.” She swirled the wine around the bowl and then inhaled deeply. She let out a sigh and handed the glass back to him. “What do you think about Berlin?”

Richard nuzzled Layla’s cheek. “I think I liked Berlin very much.”

Layla tilted her head so he could kiss his favorite spot on her throat. “No, silly. For a name.”

“Girl or boy?”

“Girl.”

Richard’s mouth twisted to the side as he thought. “I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it either.”

“Have you been thinking about names at all?” She popped an olive in her mouth.

“I was thinking Jack.”

“Oooooh, I like that. Jack Armitage. Sounds like a spy.”

Richard smiled as Layla started to hum the James Bond theme song, bobbing her head along to the beat. “We should probably start writing these down.”

“There’s a notepad on the counter in the kitchen. I was making a grocery list of things that sounded edible this morning.”

“I’ll go get it. Do you want anything else while I’m up?”

She thought for a second and then her eyes lit up. “Toast with Nutella?”

He kissed the end of her nose. “Your wish is my command.” He came back into the living room a few minutes later with a plate of toast and a fresh cup of tea only to find Layla sound asleep, her mouth hanging open as her head rested on the back of the couch. He put the food down and picked her up. “Come on; let’s get you all to bed.” He’d gotten used to her falling asleep at the drop of a hat over the last week or so.

Later that night as he finally joined her in bed, his hand sought out the gentle curve of her belly and he spread his fingers protectively over her stomach. “Good night, babies.” He kissed Layla’s neck, nuzzling through her hair to find skin. “Good night, sweetness.”

She woke long enough to roll over and curl into his side, propping her leg on his thigh. “Good night, love.” She rested her hand on his chest and was sound asleep again.

It might not be sex almost every night like it was before she got pregnant, but for Richard, this had its own charm to it, too.


	3. Unwrapping Presents

Richard pulled Layla to him and smoothed his hands down her sides. “So, now that we’re home, do I finally get to see what you’ve got under that dress?”

Layla laughed and wrapped her fingers around his tie. “You are so impatient, darling.” She tugged him away from the front door and towards the bedroom.

“Well, I know you’re wearing stockings. I figured that much out during dinner.”

“Yes, your hand did seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time under my skirt.”

“Thank goodness for long tablecloths.”

Layla turned so her back was towards Richard. “Unzip me?”

“My pleasure.” He brushed her hair carefully over to the side and kissed the nape of her neck as his hand sought out the small metal tab. His mouth moved across her shoulder as the metallic whisper of the zipper parting sounded almost as loud as Layla’s breathing. Richard nudged the dress into retreat across her shoulder with his lips. Once the dress had fallen from her arms, Layla reached up a hand to tangle in Richard’s hair as he continued to leave warm kisses across her skin. His hand closed over hers in his hair and he murmured against her ear, “I want to look at you.”

She let go of his hair and he turned her around like they were dancing and then he forgot the next step as he gazed at her. Her long pearl necklace reached to her navel, gently curved above the scalloped lace of her knickers, and draped between her swollen breasts, barely contained by the delicate cups and ribbons of her bra. He gently cupped one, careful not to hurt them in their exquisite sensitivity through the covering lace of her bra. The fabric felt as substantial as a spider’s web to Layla as the warm heat of his palm radiated through her nipple, hardening it under his touch.

Richard shook his head in amazement. “How do you get more and more beautiful every day and I just get older?”

Layla hooked a finger into the knot of his tie and started to pull it loose. “You are gorgeous, Richard, and don’t ever forget it.”

He captured her mouth with his, and they kissed as his hands stroked over her bare skin and her fingers undid his tie and the buttons on his shirt. She ran her hands over his chest as his lips traversed the soft skin of her jaw. Her hands fell to his waist and she undid his belt.

“Now who’s impatient?” he chuckled against her skin.

“I can’t help it,” she laughed as she undid the button and zip. “I’m addicted to the feel of your skin.”

The click of her heels on the hardwood muffled as she tugged him into the bedroom and there was carpet underfoot. Richard toed off his shoes as his trousers slipped down his legs and Layla giggled as he shuffled the last few steps.

“At least let me get my trousers off before I trip and fall over.”

“I’d do you on the floor.”

Richard smirked. “I believe you  _have_  done me on the floor.”

Layla purred. “I do believe you are correct.” She rubbed the front of his pants, feeling his hardening cock stiffen against her hand. “I think we’ve done each other on every stationary surface in this house.”

Richard’s eyes closed as she continued to stroke him to his full hardness. “Mmm, I think you’re right.”

Layla watched the blissful expression on Richard’s face with a satisfied smile. When he began to rut against her hand, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants and tugged him to the bed. “C’mon, big boy. Let me give you your Valentine’s present.”

“Oh, do I get to unwrap you now?”

Layla laughed and shoved his pants down his legs before she pressed on his chest with one hand. He fell backward onto the bed, his feet still on the ground. Layla leaned forward and kissed where her hand had been moments earlier. “Not quite yet.” Her pearl necklace pooled and slithered across his chest as she kissed his skin, licking his nipples, trailing gentle bites down his stomach. Her hands skidded over his abs, feeling the movement of muscle as she teased him, her hands and mouth dipping down towards his cock, but never quite getting there.

His breathing was ragged before she finally gave in and smoothed her cheek against his shaft. His groan rumbled through his chest and caused the pearls to shimmy against his skin. Layla looked up the length of his body as she smoothed her tongue over the head of his cock. His hips bucked and she fluttered her tongue against it, teasing him again with the intermittent touch.

“Layla,” he moaned, her name ragged on his tongue.

Layla smiled up at him and then wrapped her necklace loosely around his cock a few times. The pearls rolled against his silken skin and her every movement caused them to shift and glide against him. She drew the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked on it like a lolly, drawing forth the first few drops of his response.

Richard groaned and sat up enough to gather her hair in his hand, holding it back from her face so he could watch as she lowered her mouth, taking more of his cock into her. Her lips were warm and her mouth was wet, and she hollowed her cheeks around his shaft, sliding further down its length. She kept her fingers wrapped around the base, keeping her necklace from snagging on anything sensitive, and as she pulled her mouth back up, the pearls glided over the damp skin like a thousand lacquered touches.

His hips bucked upward. “Fuck, Layla.”

She smiled up at him again, her mouth full of his cock, and continued to suck, a slow gentle up and down, the glide of her mouth interspersed with licking the head over and over, rubbing her tongue against the sweet spot on the underside. She kept up the slow sweet torture until his hips were bucking up against every glide of her mouth and then began to suck faster, using her hand to add to the pressure.

The aroma of his arousal filled her nostrils and she moaned, adding her voice to Richard’s deeper sounds of pleasure. His hand tightened in her hair and she grabbed his thigh, steadying herself as he began to pump into her mouth.

“Layla!” It was both a plea and a command and she ran her tongue against the underside of his cock. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and she tilted her head, letting him press in further.

“Fuck.” It was a growl as he thrust again and Layla swallowed, the coiled pearls digging into her lips as he thrust deeper than before. Two more deep hard snaps of his hips and he came down her throat, her named ripped from deep in his chest.

Layla suckled his cock, getting every last drop from him before she let it drop from her mouth and she carefully unwrapped her necklace, the smooth glide of the pearls against his shaft causing him to tremble like aftershocks.

She stretched out on the bed and Richard let his head roll to the side to take her in, black lace and white pearls and curves from head to toe. “It’s your turn now.”

Her smile was like a cat with a saucer of cream. “ _Now_  you can unwrap me.”


	4. Chocolate Ice Cream

_[previous](http://notsomolly.tumblr.com/post/76884875923/unwrapping-presents-a-richard-and-layla-one-shot) _

Richard paused in the entry to the kitchen, smiling as he watched Layla looking at her reflection in the dark windows. One hand was under her breasts, the other smoothing her shirt over her stomach and resting under the small swell of her stomach.

Layla caught sight of his reflection and smiled at him in the glass. “I feel like I’m already bigger than I was this morning.”

He walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, resting his hands over her stomach. “Can you feel them move yet?”

She leaned back against him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. “No. They say fifteen to sixteen weeks usually with the first pregnancy, but that’s with one baby. I’m not sure if it’s sooner if there are two of them. I wonder if it’s a room thing or a baby strength thing.”

He brushed his lips against her cheek. “Have you thought any more about names?”

“How about Nathaniel?”

“That’s Biblical though.” One hand stayed on her stomach as he talked. The other strayed upward to hold her hand.

Layla wove her fingers through Richard’s and turned slightly so that she could see him better. “That’s true. I was thinking more like Hawthorne than the Old Testament, though.”

“Then how about Hawthorne?”

“Hawthorne Armitage.” Her nose wrinkled. “It sounds like a 90 year old man. A crankly 90 year old man.”

“Crankly?”

Her laugh sounded tired. “I think my brain combined wrinkly and cranky. It gets all confused lately. I’m exhausted all the time.”

“Do you want to go sit down?”

She shook her head, her loose hair snagging against the stubble on his jaw. “It’s nice being held like this.”

“I can hold you on the sofa you know.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I know, but I’ll fall asleep as soon as I sit down and I miss talking to you.”

“I miss you too.” He cupped the side of her face and kissed her slowly, firm movements of his lips against hers that spoke volumes about how much he missed her. He finally pulled away so that they could both fill lungs screaming for air.

“I’m supposed to get my energy back in another month if all the baby books are to be believed.”

“You’re also supposed to get really horny, too.”

Her laughter this time didn’t sound tired. It sounded like a rain-fed stream babbling over huge round stones. “Count on you to remember that.”

“What about Micah?”

“Micah Armitage.” She thought for a moment. “That’s nice. Micah and Jack. It works. They don’t match but they go together.”

“Of course it could be two girls.”

Layla rubbed her forehead, her eyes taking on a distant look. “Or a girl and a boy.”

“And then there are middle names to consider.”

Her shoulders sagged and she slumped back against him. “It’s going to be like this for the next twenty years isn’t it?”

“Well, I was hoping to get them named before they hit puberty.”

Richard’s chuckle made her smile. “No, I mean everything’s going to be twice as complicated.”

He nuzzled the skin right below her ear lobe. “I was thinking this was kind of nice. Me, holding you, talking about our kids.”

“You’re so good for me.” Her hand found its way into his hair, wrapping around the curls at the nape of his neck. “I stress out and you calmly remind me of all the positive things I’m forgetting about.”

“Why don’t we take a few steps to the left, retrieve the pint of chocolate ice cream from the freezer, and then we go sit on the sofa and I’ll feed you until you fall asleep.”

“That sounds lovely. I’ll probably only manage three spoonfuls before I’m snoring, but it does sound absolutely lovely.”

A minute later, Layla sat facing Richard on the sofa, one leg tucked under her so that her calf rested against his thigh, her other leg hooked over his. One hand absentmindedly stroked over her stomach. Richard gave her the first bite of ice cream and she let the chocolate melt on her tongue as Richard fed himself the next spoonful. “The word’s out at work.”

“Izzy spill the secret?”

Layla shook her head. “No. Janine called me on it.”

“Little Janie?” He spooned another bit into her mouth.

Layla held her hand over her mouth as she answered. “She prefers Janine now. I think she’s hoping to take over my job while I’m on maternity leave. And yes. Apparently my assistant keeps track of more than just my schedule.”

Richard raised an eyebrow as he gave her another bite. “She noticed you missed your period?”

“No, it was the sudden drop off in coffee, me turning down champagne at the launch last week, the recent addition of a conference call every afternoon for thirty minutes where I would close my door and drawn the blinds on the windows so I could concentrate, but apparently never picked up my phone, actually eating in the office, and my sudden change in style from tailored and fitted to loose and flowing.”

Richard nodded. Listening to Layla complain during getting dressed each morning had become part of his routine. “She’s got you pegged there.”

“Also I apparently rub my stomach a lot.”

He looked down at her belly and grinned. “Like you are right now?”

Layla looked down and stopped the slow circular motion of her hand. “I swear, I don’t even notice I’m doing that.”

“It’s very sweet. Your hand is almost always on your stomach now, moving or not.”

“Apparently the early rumor in the office was that I’d gotten a boob job, because the upper twins increase in size was noticeable earlier than the lower twins.”

He gave her another bite of ice cream. “Landed yourself a movie star husband and now you’re spending his money?”

“Something like that. Of course, the fact that I’m showing now means everyone’s thinking I got knocked up before the wedding, I’m sure.”

“You do realize that eventually we’re going to have to tell your parents, right?” he asked before he medicated himself against that reality with a large bite.

“You feel like braving family dinner next Sunday? Most of the siblings should be there for a buffer.”

“I suppose simply sending them an email would be rude.”

Layla snorted. “I would never hear the end of it. But I can use the excuse that I need to rest ‘for the babies’ to get out of there early.”

“You realize, having children is a decision that your mother will probably approve of.”

Layla’s nose crinkled again. “I know. It’ll be weird. I don’t think she’s approved of anything I’ve done since I was eleven. This dinner might not be horrible after all.”

The spoon scraped against the bottom of the empty carton. “Congratulations. You finished the ice cream without falling asleep.”

“That’s an achievement these days.”

He set the carton down on the floor. “What do you say to me carrying you to bed and tucking you in?”

Layla rolled forward and grabbed the front of his shirt. “How about you carry me to bed and then tuck you into me?”

Richard pushed himself to his feet, wrapping his arms around her as she squirmed into place, arms and legs twined around his body. “That sounds perfect.”


	5. Not Babies

The heels of Richard’s boots echoed on the underlay for the hardwood as he walked through their new house, looking for where Layla had gotten off to. They’d been doing a walkthrough with the contractor to see how progress was going and making sure the fixtures were being installed in the correct bathrooms and go over the list of a thousand other details that popped up every time they turned around, especially since Layla kept getting ideas about how to personalize the house. Her newest idea was to install a dog wash in the laundry room in case they ever got a dog. And now he couldn’t even find her.

He went up the staircase, staying away from the edge since the railing wasn’t in yet, to see if she’d gone back to look at the bathtub again. Or to pet it and whisper sweet nothings to it. She was very excited about the new bathtub. On his way, though, he saw her through the framed in walls of what would be the nursery, sitting on the plywood floor.

“What do you think, babies? You going to be happy in here?” Richard stopped in the hallway, not wanting to disturb her conversation. He’d never heard her talk to the babies before. “You’ll have lots more room than in my tummy, and big windows to look out over the garden, and your own bathroom. I never had my own bathroom growing up. I still share a bathroom, in fact,” she giggled, “but Daddy’s fun to share a bathroom with. And you’ll have your own cribs. Maybe not at first. Maybe we’ll let you share a crib when you’re still itty bitty. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She paused and Richard could swear she was listening to her stomach. “Right. Once you get bigger you can have your own, but starting out, you’ll probably do better together. There’s going to be enough changes to get used to out here without making you sleep apart too.”

Her hands kept up a soothing rhythm over her stomach as she looked around the room. “Do you think I should get a bed for me in here? Some people say it’s a good idea, especially for sleep training. I don’t really like the whole idea of sleep training though.” Richard wondered when she’d been reading about sleep training. She’d been throwing herself into her work with a new found intensity lately, worried about getting everything set up for when she was on maternity leave and other than talking about names, had evinced very little interest in discussing the pregnancy or what would happen after the babies were born.

“I’m afraid you’re both going to have to cope with parents who are going to cuddle you all the time and you’re never going to cry yourself to sleep. It’s probably a good idea there’s two of you coming, because if there was just one I think Daddy and I would have fought over who got to hold you. Daddy’s already started buying books to read you at bedtime.” Again there was a quiet giggle and Richard smiled to hear her so happy. She bent over and whispered to her stomach. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know that yet, but I saw them in his car. So we’re going to have to get you a bookshelf too.”

Richard snuck forward so he could hear her better, not wanting to miss a word of her musings.

“Your mummy and daddy love you both very, very much and daddy’s probably going to be more fun than me, especially at first, because he’s going to tell stories and do all the voices but I promise never to treat you as a fashion accessory, alright?” Her voice began to sound as if she were coming down with a cold. “I’ll let you wear purple plaid with red florals, and you can wear your favorite shirt every day, and you can get muddy, and I’ll try my very best not to pull your hair when I comb it.” She sniffed and patted her stomach reassuringly. “If you get my hair, we might be in for some tears just because curls are really hard to cope with some time, but I’ll do my best and we’ll use a big comb and find detangling stuff that’s safe for little kids because I really don’t want you to cry.”

She palmed away the tears on her cheeks and Richard came in to comfort her. “I don’t want you to cry either.” He sat down behind her and stretched his legs out on either side of her.

She leaned back against him and gave him a watery smile. “It just really struck me being here tonight that we’re going to have kids and raise them in this house and there’s going to be cribs and bedtime stories and all of a sudden everything became very real.” She looked around the room again, slowly taking in the framing and giving it walls and furnishing it in her mind with cribs and stuffed animals and mobiles hanging from the ceiling and a basket of tiny little clothes needing to be folded and put away. “We’re going to have tiny little people running around and they’re going to have opinions and favorite toys and probably not want their hair combed or their faces washed because they’ve got frogs in the garden to find and drawings to color and pots and pans to bang on.”

Richard smiled as he contemplated the picture she painted in the air. “What do you think about that?”

“I think it sounds wonderful. It’s not just we’re pregnant and have a baby and that’s the end. It’s like, we’re going to get real people out of this. We’re not just having babies. We’re having children.” She turned enough so that she could see his face. “Does that make sense?” There were lines creasing her forehead and Richard reached up to smooth them away. “It seemed like this really amazing insight to me when I had it, but saying it out loud it sounds kind of dumb.”

Richard dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her close enough to kiss. “No. I think it’s perfect. We’re not just having babies. We’re adding people to our family.”

“It makes it easier, I think, to cope with my rapidly growing belly.” She looked down at her stomach and rubbed her hands over it some more. “Because babies are cute and snuggly, but they don’t do much. And I’m cute and you’re snuggly,” she burrowed into Richard’s chest and he wrapped an arm around her, letting his hand cover hers on her stomach, “so it’s not like we need babies for that. But children.” She sighed softly. “Children are their own beings. The belly is necessary for children.”

She sat for a few more seconds and then started to get up. Richard hurried to help her to her feet. She wasn’t having any difficulty yet but he wanted her to be used to accepting help before she needed it. He stood up when he was sure she was safely balanced and rested his hands on her stomach for a moment as he looked around the nursery, his gaze coming back to rest on her. “You are more beautiful right now than you’ve ever been.”

“Oh, hush.”

“No, really.” He caught her chin when she shook her head and brought her eyes to meet his. “Yes, you have a belly and it’s going to get bigger, but I look at you and I see the woman I love pregnant with my children and nothing has ever been more beautiful than that.”

Layla rested her forehead against his lips, partly wanting his kiss, partly wanting to hide the new wave of tears coming to her eyes. It felt like she was always crying recently. “You always know the right thing to say.”

“Telling you you’re beautiful doesn’t take a lot of skill. It’s just the truth.”

She sniffed, she was always sniffling lately too, and looked up at him. “See? Right thing to say.”

“How about, ‘Why don’t we go home now and I’ll rub your belly while you eat ice cream and Kalamata olives?’”

Layla laughed and took his hand and led him from the nursery. “Three for three, love. You really are perfect.”

“Do I get a prize?” He made sure she was close to the wall as they walked down the rough staircase. He had no idea how he was going to cope with his constant urge to protect her once she actually did start getting wobbly on her feet. At least she had ceded the ground on wearing stilettos throughout her entire pregnancy. He had feared he was going to have to hide her Louboutins, and he didn’t think even the love they shared would protect him from her wrath on that account.

“Hmmm.” Layla didn’t answer until she was back on level ground. “How about when we get home and you finish rubbing my belly and we finish eating ice cream and then you can rub  _below_  my belly?”

He stopped in the hallway of what would be their new home in a few months and took his new wife into his arms. “Would you like me to rub with my fingers or my tongue?”

Layla shivered at the deep resonant syllables slipping along her skin. “How about both?”

He tilted her face to the side so he could kiss her, and right before his lips closed over hers he whispered, “As you wish.”


	6. A Temporary Farewell

Layla waited impatiently for the doctor to turn the monitor around so that she could see her babies. At least this time the ultrasound was abdominal, but that small blessing also meant her bladder was painfully full.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Olson asked as she stared at the screen, clicking on different parts of the image. “Still having morning sickness?”

“Not as bad the last few days. I haven’t actually vomited in a week.”

“In the next week or so, you’ll start feeling like yourself again. You’ll be able to eat, and the uterus will start to move up and off your bladder so you won’t have to pee every hour, and you’ll have more energy.”

Richard sighed in relief. “That’s good. I’ve been worried about her being alone while I’m gone.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I’m shooting a new film. It’s supposed to take six weeks. I leave right after this appointment for Leeds and I’ll only be home at the weekends.”

“Well, I’m glad you got to be here to see your little ones.” She turned the monitor so they both could see it. “They look less like lentils and much more like babies this time.”

Layla gasped at the sight of the two little figures on the screen. “That’s their heads.”

“Yep. And this darker white line here is the spine of Baby A,” she moved the wand over Layla’s belly, “and here’s the spine of Baby B. They both look perfectly healthy so far.”

“Are they identical?” Layla asked. “Can you tell?”

“Well, there are some clues we can look at for an idea. We look for shared placentas and shared membranes. Your two are what we call dichorionic diamniotic, meaning they both have their own membranes, both outer and inner. That means less potential for complications as you progress, but unfortunately for telling whether or not they’re identical, it doesn’t help. All fraternal twins are like that, but about a third of identical ones are as well.”

“So, if we want to know, how do we do that?” Richard asked.

“At your next appointment we should be able to determine gender with an ultrasound. If you’ve got one of each, you have your answer. If not, we could do an amniocentesis.”

Layla’s hand involuntarily jerked and she placed it on her stomach. “That’s the test where you poke a needle through my belly, right?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head frantically. “We’re not doing that.”

“Good. I discourage it unless there are other health concerns we need to rule out. Typically I recommend a DNA test done after they’re born if we can’t tell at that point. It’s a simple cheek swab.”

Richard brushed Layla’s hair back out of her face. “How big are they?”

“Almost five and a half centimeters. About the size of a lime. And you can’t feel them moving yet, but if you push on your stomach,” Layla pressed on her belly, “there they go, moving away.”

Layla giggled in excitement as she watched the tiny arms and legs flail in respond to her touch. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Richard prodded her stomach with a finger and they swam away from the pressure.

“They’re real,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to watch the moving images on the screen. “We’re really having two babies.”

Layla shook her head. “Two children.”

Later, they sat in Richard’s car in front of Layla’s office building. Printed out photos of the ultrasound were tucked in the side pocket of his satchel which sat in the backseat. His suitcase was in the boot, along with everything else he would need for his time away. They’d fallen into a cautious silence as he had driven her to work after the appointment with the doctor, and the clasp of her hand around his had grown progressively tighter. Finally, they had to say goodbye.

He kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll be home late Friday night.”

“You’ll wake me when you get home if I’ve fallen asleep, right?”

He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. He was going to miss waking up to a faceful of her hair. She’d be able to braid it at bedtime and actually get through the night without it being unbraided. “You go to sleep and I’ll wake you up. You need your sleep.”

“I’ll need  _you._ ”

“And I’ll wake you as soon as I get home.”

The tears in her eyes made them seem even larger than normal. “The very instant?”

He brushed her cheek and kissed her softly. “The very instant.”

“I’m going to pretend like I’ll be so busy that I won’t even miss you so I don’t cry right now.”

He was glad she was meeting James and Patrick tonight for a traditional corned beef dinner tonight. It meant fewer hours he needed to worry about her being alone or stressing herself out. She had spent six hours on Saturday working on vision boards for the nursery, agonizing over themes and minute variations in color schemes and whether or not if it was a girl and a boy they should have separate nurseries, before he took her laptop and magazines away and took her out for a drive. Between work, two babies and a new house, he had to fight to get her to relax. He had to do something about that, but he wasn’t sure what. “The baby magazines are in the office on top of the printer if you need a distraction but promise me you’ll get at least eight hours of sleep each night.”

“I promise.” It would be an easy promise to keep. She was still exhausted by the time she got home each night, even with stealing a nap in the afternoon at work.

“And I’m having the market deliver groceries twice a week so you’ll always have food in the house.”

“You worry too much.”

He shook his head. “I’m not worried. I’m taking care of you. Even from far away I’ll keep taking care of you.”

Their kiss goodbye was bittersweet. Soft and long and achingly tender, it managed to communicate all things for which they couldn’t find words.

“Until Friday.”

Layla nodded, kissed Richard one more time, and hurried out of the car before tears began to fall. She had known marrying an actor that he would be gone for weeks at a time. And it wasn’t like this was new; he had been gone before for both  _The Hobbit_ and  _Into the Storm._ He’d be back soon, she reminded herself, and they’d have the weekends together. She could do this. She was  _not_  going to break down and start crying in front of him and make it even harder for him to go do his job. Instead, she put a little bit of an extra effort into making sure her hips swayed as she walked the way they did before she got pregnant and give him a happy send off. She had the babies to talk to in the evenings if she got lonely. Richard wouldn’t even have that.

Watching her walk away, he couldn’t even tell she was pregnant. The loose shift dress had been purchased a size larger than normal according to Layla, but he couldn’t tell. Her grey dress ended mid-thigh and there was a long expanse of green tights visible above the top of her high heeled boots.  The sway of her hips under the fabric was still just as enchanting as the first morning he had watched her cross the living room floor. Those hips had changed his world, turning it upside down and shaking it like a snow globe, and he was still waiting for everything to settle into place and take on a new order. Getting used to St. Patrick’s Day now being a major holiday in his yearly calendar was one of the smaller changes. She’d pinched his arse quite firmly this morning when he hadn’t worn green – a pinch that had ended up almost making them late for the doctor’s appointment. Only a little bit of the delay had been caused by the hilarity of Layla modeling maternity tights for him – they came up over her breasts – but most of it had been due to him taking the tights off of her. One last hurrah before he shipped out.

The door to the building closed behind her and he shifted the car into drive. It was a long drive to Leeds, and it would be a long week without Layla to come home to each night. He couldn’t focus on that now though. Instead, he turned on the playlist of music he’d compiled to get into Chop’s head and headed north. He had a job to do, and his family, all three of them, would be at home waiting for him when he was done.


	7. Good Morning

Richard lay in bed, connecting the freckles on Layla’s back with the tip of a finger, turning them into Cassiopeia. Waking up with her next to him was precious any day, but especially when he was spending so much time away filming and woke up most mornings alone in an impersonal flat. Here though, the scent of her lingered on the sheets and her shoes were in the middle of the floor and there were pictures of the two of them on the wall. This was home.

His hand slid forward and spread over the swell of her stomach. He could see the change in her size every week when he came home for the weekend. He didn’t tell  _her_ that; he knew better. He just told her she was beautiful. It was the truth.

Layla made a sleepy sound and rolled over into him. She fit a bit differently now, her stomach preventing her from gluing herself to his side, but she hooked one of her legs over his and ran a hand down his chest until it settled right below his navel. His fingertips traveled lazily up and down her side, over her ribs and down into the valley of her waist before they grazed back up. His other hand was behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, running through the list of things he had to do today. Foremost in his mind were the two television interviews he had to do before driving back to Leeds for a night of filming. His mind was swiftly brought back to the present when Layla walked her fingers the rest of the way down his stomach and wrapped them around his cock.

A breath hissed across his teeth as she gently stroked him and he looked down to find her eyes still closed. The slow and steady stroking was quickly bringing him erect and he breathed out slowly, just a note of a sigh to it, as he laid still and let her go at her own pace. Her fingers tightened a fraction as he hardened and her nails teased over his testicles before the pad of her thumb rubbed along the ridge at the bottom of his cock, following it all the way to the head. She rocked back and away from him before lifting herself up on her knees. Her eyes were heavy lidded as she lowered her head, taking the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, clenching his hand in her hair.

She moaned and her hot tongue whirled around the head before she slid her head down in one smooth movement, taking him until he was hitting the back of her throat. He pushed upwards and she swallowed, taking more of him and his head fell back as he groaned. Up and down she went, slicking his cock, sucking and licking until he was bucking upwards, digging his fingers into the sheets. Layla let go with a lewd pop and straddled him, shifting her hips until she felt his cock pressing right against her entrance and then she braced a hand on his chest as she sank onto him, a moan of pleasure vibrating in her throat. She bit down on her lip as she continued to work her way onto him and Richard gripped her hips and pulled as he pressed upward, making sure he was completely embedded in her.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, clenching around him. Richard let out a hot breath and he sank his hands into her hair to pull her down for a kiss, suckling the lip she had bitten. Layla began to rock her hips and he let her sit back up, his hands sliding out of her hair and over her breasts, squeezing and kneading them and tugging at her nipples. Her eyes were closed again as she rode him. Her hand slid down his chest, stroking down his happy trail before she brushed her fingers over her clit.

It became a race to see who could finish first, between Richard’s deep thrusts and Layla speeding her fingers over her clit. They’d had more sex in the last few days than they’d had in weeks plagued by exhaustion and constant nausea. Now though, Layla was more insatiable than normal as if making up for lost time, and Richard was all too happy to provide her with everything she wanted and needed.

In the end, it was a tie, or as close to one as made no difference. He dragged his feet up towards his arse so he could thrust deeper. Layla tipped forward, bracing her hands against his shoulders and pushed back, taking him deeper as Richard sucked on first one nipple and then the other as her breasts bobbed in his face. She dug her nails into his skin, he tugged on her nipple with his teeth, she cried out, he grunted as he thrust one more time, and her spine went rigid as she came, clenching around him, pulling him along with her.

She rolled off of him, no longer comfortable with just collapsing on his chest, and they held hands as both of them gasped for breath. Finally she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Good morning.”

He rolled over and kissed her. “And good morning to you.”

Layla smiled and ran her hands over his chest. “Are you going to be all nice and relaxed for your interviews now?”

Richard kissed her again, scraping his teeth across her bottom lip before kissing his way down her throat. His tongue flicked out to taste her skin before he sucked a kiss onto the swell of her breast. Layla’s back arched under his touch and he rested his chin on her sternum. Looking up at her, a smirk tilted the corner of his mouth. “If I say no?”

“Well,” she brushed his hair back from his face so she could clearly see his sparkling blue eyes, “then I guess we just have to do it again until you are.”

Richard grinned and kissed her other breast. “Then no. Definitely no.”


	8. Batteries

Richard shut the front door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake Layla if she were already asleep. He shrugged out of his coat and removed his shoes as he crossed the living room to pour himself a drink. Layla had decanted a bottle of pinot noir and it sat on the side table with a glass, waiting for him. He swirled the liquid around the bowl, inhaling the aroma before taking a sip. It was almost as enjoyable as the knowledge that his wife had readied it for him to bring refreshment at the end of a long day. He felt like a king in his castle. Carrying the glass with him, he made his way down the hallway to their bedroom to see if Layla had waited up for him or if he would get to kiss her awake.

A faint buzzing noise met his ears as he reached the door. Curious as to the source of the unfamiliar sound, he opened the door and then stopped in the entryway at the sight before him. Layla was sprawled on top of crumpled sheets, her legs spread and bent, working a vibrator in and out of her pussy. Richard’s cock immediately began to harden at the sight, watching the way her hips undulated as she pleasured herself. As he observed, he realized some part of the device was rubbing against her clit as well, and he could tell by the sweet moans shivering over her lips that she was close to coming. Her back arched up off the bed and she called his name. The husky sound of her voice drew a groan from him and her eyes flew open. Her head jerked to the side and she saw him standing here.

Layla collapsed back on the bed and fumbled between her legs. The buzzing immediately stopped. “I’m so sorry. I… I tried to wait but I couldn’t.”

Richard held a finger to his lips and shook his head as he crossed the bedroom to her. “Keep going, sweetness.”

Her jaw dropped a bit. “What?”

He sat back down on the bed and ran his hand up her leg, skimming over her warm thigh. His fingers brushed over the buttons set into the end of the vibrator and he turned it back on. “Keep going.”

Layla jolted at the sudden renewal of the sensations. Her fingers brushed over Richard’s as she hesitantly took back control of the toy from him. She moved it slowly, her eyes fixed on Richard’s face as he intently watched her movements. Richard’s breathing grew ragged as she continued, her hips beginning to take on that same urgency of movement that he had interrupted. Layla’s eyes drifted shut, losing herself to the building waves of need washing over her. Richard undid his jeans, lowering the zip to give his cock some relief from the binding fabric as it became fully erect, the combined force of the sound and scent and sight of her too strong to be controlled.

Her fingers pressed against his hand and Richard laced their fingers together. She dug into the back of his hand as her gasping breaths became further and further apart and he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. Layla cried out his name as she came, her entire body trembling as the waves of ecstasy crashed over her, drowning her with their force.

Richard slowly drew the vibrator from her, causing even more tremors to shake her, and turned it off.  He set it aside and then knelt between her thighs. He bent down and pressed a hot kiss to her lips before he whispered, “My turn.”


	9. Two More Weeks

Layla stared into the fridge as she held her mobile to her ear. Even Richard’s voice couldn’t completely overwhelm her hunger. “I am so horny that today I figured out how much it would cost to have a taxi take me to Leeds just to have sex with you.”

His laughter was loud but tinged with sympathy.“Two more weeks and no more Leeds.”

“And then you’ll be home until the babies are born. I’m so happy this play was at just the right time for you.”

“And thankfully I have an understudy in case the babies decide to come early.”

Layla patted her stomach. “I told them they’re not allowed to.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see how good they are at listening to their mum right off, then.”

“Have you thought of any more name ideas?” They had found out at her appointment Monday morning that they were having a girl and a boy.

“What about Emmeline?”

Layla wrinkled her nose and moved the carton of milk over, looking to see if anything interesting was hiding behind it. She was disappointed to find that there wasn’t. “She sounds prissy. I was on a baby name site today and people are starting to name their daughters Khaleesi.”

“We are not those people.”

Layla laughed. “I know. What about Sofia?” She picked up the jar of Kalamata olives and grimaced at it before she put it back in the fridge. She was sick of them after the first trimester.

“Sofia might work. I kind of like Violet.”

“That’s a possibility.” She shut the fridge door and leaned against it with a sigh. “How is it possible that we have a fridge full of food but there’s not a single thing in there I want to eat?”

“What are you craving?”

“I don’t know if it’s a full-blown craving, but I would gladly trade a pair of my shoes for that quail and porcini tetrazzini I had at that one restaurant we went to last month.”

“Too bad they don’t deliver. I suppose you’re already in your pyjamas?”

Layla snickered. She never wore pyjamas and he knew it. The boy was asking her what she was wearing and trying to be subtle about it. “If by pyjamas, you mean your green t-shirt that is getting tight across the belly, then yes.”

“Well, since you’re already disappointed about the lack of magically appearing tetrazzini, I guess now’s the time to give you the bad news.”

Layla’s heart sank to her toes and she grabbed the edge of the counter. “What?”

“I’m not going to be able to come home this weekend. I’m going to WonderCon.”

She had never even heard of cons before she met Richard but now she was intimately familiar with them. “Where’s that one?”

“California.”

It took her no time at all to make a decision. “I’m coming.”

“What?”

“I’m coming with you,” she clarified. “Call whoever and get them to book me a ticket on the same flight as you and I will pay them back, or get me your flight information and I’ll book it, but I am coming with you. Even if the only time we get to spend together is on the plane, that’s better than the alternative.”

His smile was audible in his voice. “I’d love to have you with me. It’s even supposed to be nice and warm this weekend, so you can put on a bikini and go lay by the pool while I’m doing all the publicity.”

The thought of an afternoon spent basking in the sunshine sounded lovely, especially compared to a day alone in a London April. “I’ll pack like I did for our honeymoon, bikinis and lingerie.”

“That sounds delightful.”

“Anything in particular you want to see me in?”

“Nothing at all.”

That’s what she wanted to see him in as well. They’d make a perfect matched set. “That will make packing easy.”

They flirted back and forth for the next half hour about what they would get up to in the hotel room and possibly on the airplane before Richard reluctantly told Layla farewell, needing his sleep before an early morning call.

Layla went back to staring in the fridge, hoping that somehow the contents had magically changed since she had last looked. Finally she gave up and put the kettle on.  _I’ll just make a pot of tea and have biscuits for supper. I had a salad at lunch so I had veggies today, and it’s not like I have biscuits for dinner every night. I mean, I’m taking pre-natal vitamins, so that’s got to count for something._ She absentmindedly stroked her stomach while she waited for the water to heat and ended up feeling so guilty about not having a proper supper that she sliced up an apple while the tea brewed and nibbled on one of the wedges. Carrying her tea, a packet of biscuits and her apple into the living room with her, she was just about to sit down when there was a knock at the door. Wondering who it could possibly be at almost ten at night, she opened the door to find Deborah standing there.

“What are you doing out on a school night?”

Deborah held up a paper bag and invited herself in. “Your husband messaged me and said if I’d go get your quail and porcini tetrazzini that you’re craving that I could get whatever I wanted and he’d pay for it, and since I am a starving college student and don’t get to go to fancy restaurants ever, I took him up on it.”

Layla took the bag from her little sister, opened it and inhaled deeply. “Oh, he ordered the garlic bread and pudding as well.”

“And there’s asparagus with mint butter too.”

Layla held the bag to her chest and sighed happily. “He really loves me.”

“Oh, and he said I could borrow a pair of your shoes,” Deb added, a gleeful smile appearing on her face. “Any of them except the green boots.”


	10. Home Again

Richard leaned against the door to Layla’s closet, watching her sort through clothes and fold them into boxes or hang them on a portable wardrobe for the pieces that couldn’t be folded. She hadn’t heard him come in because she was blaring her music, singing and dancing along, her hips swaying as she moved. Even though he hadn’t seen her since Sunday night, he was happy to wait and watch, especially since, for some reason, she was undertaking this activity wearing only a bright blue bikini with some sort of orange and white abstract pattern on it. He was so mesmerized by the movement of her body that it took him a minute to realize the pattern was actually koi. He chuckled at the realization that she was wearing an aquarium bathing suit, and the noise caused Layla to turn around.

“You’re home!” she exclaimed, dropping a neatly folded teal garment on the floor and running to him. Richard opened his arms and wrapped her in an embrace. Her belly pressed against his stomach as they kissed. Her fingers combed into his hair and she made a happy noise. “And no more extensions,” she murmured against his lips. She tugged on his hair and he groaned, the noise rumbling through his chest and vibrating through her breasts.

”No more extensions.” His lips moved over hers again and her mouth parted on a sigh of happiness. The tips of their tongues brushed against each other and her breath caught at the heat that raced down her back. She heaved in a breath and Richard looked down at her breasts, so full he could see the barest hint of nipple at the edge of her top. He traced a finger over the curve of her skin, brushing against the silky fabric and tugging it down the slightest degree so he could touch the areola, watching as the little white bumps that surrounded it became more prominent as her skin responded to his touch. “There a reason you’re wearing a bikini, sweetness?”

“It’s one of the few things I have that actually fit. That’s why I’m packing up all my clothes. Nothing fits and it makes me sad to come in here every morning to get dressed and see all these beautiful things that I can’t wear.”

His mouth curved in a smirk. “You don’t have to wear anything at all, you know.”

Layla kissed the tilted corner of his mouth. How she had missed the sexy gravel of his voice when he smirked at her like that. “The girls need the support. They’re so big anymore. I think I’m going to have to go buy more bras. And maternity clothes. Actual, not just stretchy or up a size or loose fitting, maternity clothes.” She sighed and looked at the hamper where today’s outfit resided. “Well, more of them.”

Richard ran his hands over her stomach. She was carrying right out in front and he thought she was adorable. She’d popped out early, as if her body was so excited about being pregnant that it couldn’t wait to share the information, but now was slowly growing in size. He’d shared the belly picture she had sent him last week with the makeup and costume people and they all had been surprised at how small she was for how far along she was, especially with twins. “You’re almost twenty weeks along with twins, Layla. It’s a testament to your stubbornness you made it this far.”

“The only way I made it is borrowing stuff from work and borrowing from friends and sisters-in-law.” Layla gasped softly and grabbed Richard’s hand. She shifted it to a different spot on her stomach and looked into Richard’s eyes. They widened as he felt the movement. “Is that…?” He trailed off as she nodded.

“If they haven’t swapped sides, that’s your daughter.”

The baby moved again and Richard laughed with joy. His eyes watered as he bent down to kiss the spot on her stomach. “Well, she’s going to be a little footballer, isn’t she?”

She placed his other hand on the other side of her stomach. “Now, if they do what they normally do, she’ll wake up her brother with her swimming around and you’ll feel him soon.”

He rested his cheek against her belly as he held it with both hands. “You sound like you’re used to this.”

Layla stroked her fingers through her hair, relishing the soft waves that were visible again. “I started feeling them early last week, but I didn’t want to say anything until I knew you would be able to feel them too. I didn’t want you to feel any more left out than you already have been.”

He moved his second hand slightly, centering it over the ripple of movement he had just felt. “You know your babies well already.”

“ _Our_  babies.”

“Yes. Our babies.”

Layla let him commune with his infants until they had both stopped moving for over a minute. She wanted him to have as much time with them as he possibly could, but she also couldn’t wait to show him what she had worked up this week to distract herself as she had been counting down the days until he came home again, this time for good. “The babies and I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?”

She dashed out of the room and came back with a large piece of foam board, finding him having moved into the living room. She stood in front of him and waited until he finished taking off his shoes before she started talking again, which she thought showed admirable restraint. “The babies and I have been talking and we’ve found an idea for the nursery that we can all agree on, and we want to know what you think.”

She flipped the board around, appearing like a game show prize presenter in her bikini, and Richard smiled at the collage of pictures she had collected, printed and mounted.

“I know how much you like being outdoors and want to camp with our children, and this way they grow up with that from the time they are wee ones.”

Richard tried to scrutinize all the different pictures to appreciate the amount of work and thought she had put into every tiny detail, but all he could think about was the image of himself stretched out in one of those rockers with a baby asleep in each arm. “Is it pretty enough for you?”

“I love it. The colors are nice and soothing and I know it will soon be overrun by brightly colored plastic, but at least we’re starting out from something nice.”

He tried to think of something intelligent to say but his brain was swamped with thoughts of reading bed time stories and changing nappies and late nights walking one of them up and down the hall as the child blithely ignored any thoughts of a normal bed time and babbled cheerfully or slobbered on her fist. “One crib or two?”

“We’ll get two, though I think I want them to sleep together in the same one until they’re old enough to poke each other awake.” Her hand darted to her stomach and pressed. “Though judging by the way they’re acting already, we may be too late for that.”

Richard nudged her hand aside and placed his where it had been. “Does it hurt?”

“Not yet. Though I’ve got another twenty weeks to go.”

His son kicked him. Or maybe it was punch. “You think you’re going to make it another twenty weeks?

“They’re under strict instructions that they can’t make me go into labor until  _after_  your final curtain call on the thirteenth of September.”

“Well, we’ll just plan on that.” He took the foamboard from her and propped it against the sofa before he stood up. “I love the forest nursery.” He ran his fingertip over the swell of her breast again, right where it bloomed over the cup of her bikini top. “Right now I want to talk about something a bit closer time wise, though.”

His eyes were fixed on her chest and Layla smiled at the blatant desire she could see in them. “What would you like to discuss?”

“Oh, about five minutes from now.”

She pulled up on his shirt, slipping her hands underneath and exploring the warm skin of his stomach and chest. “What’s going to happen five minutes from now?”

“You’re going to come.”

His voice was so hot she shivered. “You think so?”

Richard pulled loose the tie of her top and used the strings to pull the top down, freeing her breasts. “For the first time tonight.” He bent and sucked a mouthful of her breast into his mouth before scraping his teeth back until just the nipple was in his mouth. Layla’s fingers curled against his stomach as he tugged at it before he let it go. “But definitely not for the last.”


	11. Happy Anniversary

Richard stopped trimming his beard as Layla walked into the bathroom in a skin tight black dress. It hugged every one of her lovely curves, the deep v neckline highlighting her breasts and putting her round stomach on display. She turned sideways so she could see her profile in the mirror and then grimaced. When she made to leave he grabbed her hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To change.”

He shook his head. “No. You look perfect.”

“I look huge,” she looked up and down his naked body, “which is a fabulous look on you, but not so much on me.”

He grabbed her other hand and pulled her closer, giving him an excellent view down the neckline of her dress. “I know you told me I’m not allowed to compare you to fruit, but you look luscious and ripe and sexy.”

Layla made a face worthy of an annoyed camel. “I don’t feel sexy. I can’t see my toes anymore.”

“Your toes are painted a lovely shade of coral and whether or not you can see them doesn’t change that you are fucking sexy.” Richard pulled Layla in front of him and made her face the mirror. “Look at you. Your hair is amazing. You insist on pulling it all back but when you leave it down you turn into a fire goddess. And your breasts.” He stopped to grasp them, letting them fill his hands and kneading them softly. “Your breasts, Layla are magnificent.  And your belly is just a reminder to me that we’ve had sex, and it makes me want to have sex some more.” His hands slid down over her stomach, holding it firmly. “I got you pregnant, Layla. Those are my babies you’re carrying, and you know what that makes you?”

She raised her eyes to his in the mirror and her blood heated from the fire she saw there.“Yours?”

His breath was hot against her ear. “Mine,” he growled. “All mine.” He pulled up her skirt until it exposed her knickers and then slid his hand over them. “You are my sexy wife.” His fingers played over the fabric, teasing against the damp cotton.

Layla sighed as her head fell back against his shoulder. She tilted her hips forward, rubbing against his fingers, watching in the mirror with heavy lidded eyes as he slid his hand further between her thighs. His eyes were fixed on his hand as it stroked slowly against her. He pressed harder with his middle finger, dipping between her folds and then slowly dragging back and forth over the fabric, teasing both her entrance and her clit.

Richard gripped her mound and pulled her back against him and rubbed his stiffening cock against her arse. “Sweet sexy Layla,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to bend you over this counter and fuck you right here.”

Layla shuddered at his words and then she nodded frantically. “Do it,” she managed to say.

“Bend over,” he ordered.

Layla rested her elbows on the counter as Richard yanked her dress up to completely expose her. His fingers closed over her knickers and he pulled them down, kissing the back of each of her thighs as he helped her out of them. His breath fanned over her pussy and then his tongue rubbed over her clit.

“Oh my g…” Layla gasped out as her knees buckled. Richard grabbed her hips and kept her upright as his tongue slid from her clit to her pussy and pressed inside and then curled.

“So fucking sweet, Layla,” he muttered as he stood. He grabbed his cock in his hand and ran it over her folds, teasing her clit with a constant motion until she was whimpering as she moved her hips, trying to get him inside her. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head and pulled back so his cock was no longer touching her at all, just his hand stroking over her hip. “Yes what, sweetness?”

She tried to press backward, to reestablish contact, but he held her in place. “Yes, Richard.”

The smack of his hand against her arse crackled in the air. “Louder, naughty girl.”

“Yes, Richard!” Her cry echoed back from the tiles.

His noise of satisfaction would have sounded at home in the throat of a tiger as he shoved inside her. “That’s right. You love this, don’t you?”

Layla swayed forward from the momentum of him driving into her, and dropped her head as her eyes closed. “Yes, Richard.”

He sank his hand into her hair and pulled back, making her look at herself in the mirror. “So fucking sexy, sweetness.” He bent forward, pressing his chest to her spine and nipped at her earlobe. “Hard to believe it was just a year ago that I did this to you for the first time.” His other hand slid from her hip to between her legs and began rubbing over her clit. “A year ago tonight I thoroughly fucked you for the first time, didn’t I?”

His rough voice flooded through her, caressing her skin as he moved within her. Her breasts bobbed with every one of his thrusts and his beard rubbed against her neck. “Yes, darling.”

He licked her throat and suckled at the soft skin at the base of her ear, all the while pounding into her, his hand on her hip biting into the softness to keep her from rocking forward and hitting her stomach on the counter. He may have to take an extra precaution now, but he could still thoroughly fuck her. “And I found out you love being a naughty girl for me, don’t you?” His teeth scraped against her ear again.

Layla felt like her legs had turned to jelly and the only thing keeping her upright was Richard’s hands and her desperate hold on the counter. “Yes, Richard,” she whimpered. She pressed back against him, loving every deep thrust into her body. He cherished the naughty side of her and she adored how fierce he got when he brought it out in her.

“That’s right,” another smack against her ass, watching the curve of flesh ripple from the impact. “My fucking hot naughty girl. You’re my wife now, but you’re still fucking hot, dahlin.”

She may have been listening to his voice for a year now, but it still had the same incendiary effect on her as it had that first night. “Riii iiii iiii…”

She was arching her back, grinding helplessly against him. Her fingers had knotted into fists since there was nothing soft she could dig into and the muscles under his hand had gone taut. “That’s right, sweetness. You come for me. Come for me now.”

Layla cried out and then went silent, her head thrown back as her pussy clenched rhythmically around his thrusting cock. Richard grabbed her hip with his other hand and held her still as he pounded into her, his own head dropping back as all of his body focused on the wet slick feel of her around his cock. It was only a minute more before he was coming too, his loud final grunts echoing in the bathroom as he spilled himself inside her body.

He panted, his chest heaving against her back, as he held and stroked her, pressing kisses to the side of her face. Eventually they drew apart and Richard wet a flannel with hot water and cleaned both of them off. “I think we’re going to have to hurry to make our reservation.”

Layla laughed and pulled her dress back down. “I guess I’ll have to wear this dress then instead of changing.”

Richard picked her knickers up off the bathroom floor and tossed them in the hamper. “And nothing underneath. Now go put on your heels.” He couldn’t keep himself from patting her rear as she left. It was just too damn sexy.


	12. Empire Waistlines

Layla rang the doorbell with her elbow and prayed for Richard to hurry. She knew he was in there. Rehearsals never went this late and she had been held up in a design meeting that had lasted much longer than it should have. As soon as the door opened, she handed him four large shopping bags. “You need to talk to your fans.” She carefully placed her purse on the entry table.

Richard got distracted by the purse for a moment. He didn’t recognize this one. She’d sublimated her fashion needs by shopping for new purses and jewelry since those were the parts of the new fashion lines that didn’t care about her waist size. “About what?” he asked, after a few seconds.

“They keep dropping off presents for the babies and hanging around in the lobby now that you’re back in London hoping to see you and they don’t see you but they see me, and they keep asking to touch my stomach!”

Richard winced. Layla  _hated_ it when strangers asked to touch her stomach. “I’ll call my agency tomorrow and see what I can do about getting the word out.”

She pointed to his office. “No. You sit down right now and write ‘Please don’t ask to touch Layla’s stomach’ on a piece of paper and I’m going to take a picture of you with it and post it to Twitter.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

“No, I really don’t!”

Richard couldn’t miss the edge of hysteria to her voice so he quietly went into the office and came back out a minute later with a sign. “Is this good?”

Layla fished her phone out of her bag and took a picture of him with it. “Okay, I’m going to post this to Twitter and then I’m going to eat everything in the kitchen.” A few taps on the screen later and she headed into the kitchen.

Richard followed after her. “What was in the bags?” He had left them in the office.

Layla was staring into the fridge trying to decide what to eat first. “Presents for the babies people have dropped off at work. Security won’t let random people off of the street up to see me anymore, and they won’t send up unscreened packages, so they fill bags with them and I pick them up periodically.”

“Well that’s nice of them.”

She popped the lid off of the container of spaghetti and picked up a few of the noodles with her fingers. She held them up and lowered them into her upturned mouth. “I need to bring them muffins or something. I swear this is turning into another Thorin doll situation.”

Richard took the container from her and put it in the microwave. “Do you want me to make another sign telling people to stop dropping gifts off at your work?”

Layla was back into the fridge and emerged with a container of yoghurt. She peeled off the lid and Richard handed her a spoon. “It sounds so ungrateful, doesn’t it? I mean, I love that so many people are excited for you and for the babies, but there’s only so many blankets even two babies can use.”

“Should I make another sign?”

Layla took several bites of yoghurt before she answered. “I’m coming across as a bitch,” she whispered to her spoon.

Richard leaned against the counter as he let Layla eat. He had learned that when she was hungry all other concerns, including his physical safety, were secondary. “We could choose a charity and ask that in lieu of gifts, people donate.”

“Could it be a charity for babies?”

“Of course.”

She finished off her yoghurt before she spoke again. “I knew you were a celebrity when I married you, but I had no idea how much it was going to affect my life and now the life of our children. Someone emailed my work account and asked when I was scheduling the induction so she could get her  _Crucible_ tickets for a date you would be there.”

Richard rubbed his face with one hand as he tried to come up with an appropriate response. He finally shrugged. “I don’t know what to say.”

Layla tossed her empty yoghurt container at the recycling bin but it bounced off the edge. Before Richard could respond, she walked over and slowly bent over to pick it up. She stood up with one hand on her back and carefully put the container in the bin. “And it’s not just your fans and seriously, it’s only been a handful of them and you have millions, but it’s like everyone, and ladies at the market touch my belly and random people on the street stop me to give me advice and I waddle.”

“You don’t waddle.” They’d had this conversation before.

“I do! I waddle and I can’t wear heels and the new collections have been in the stores for months and I haven’t bought anything because I can’t wear them because I’m too big and peanut noodles taste weird and my favorite perfume smells funky on me and I’m so tired and my ankles hurt.”

“Come here, sweetness.” Richard carefully picked her up and carried her into the living room and set her on the sofa. He grabbed one of the omnipresent pillows and tucked it under her knees and then slipped off her leopard print ballet flats. He handed her the remote and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be right back.”

He came back a few minutes later with two bowls of spaghetti and a glass of sparkling water with lime in it.  He handed Layla a bowl and put her water on the end table. She lifted up her feet and he sat down at the other end of the sofa and she put her feet in his lap. “Comfortable?”

Layla nodded, her mouth already full of spaghetti.

“I see we’re doing  _Mansfield Park_  tonight.” Layla had been on an Austen movie kick lately. She said all the empire waistlines made her feel better about her current need to belt things under her boobs.

They watched the film quietly as they ate. Richard kept an eye on Layla. The tension hadn’t left her body yet which meant it wasn’t just a hunger issue. When he was done eating he rubbed her feet but even that didn’t help. She wasn’t really watching the film either. Her eyes were unfocused enough that he knew she was lost in thought. Finally she said, “Maybe we should induce. Schedule for a Sunday morning and your understudy could have the matinee and then you wouldn’t have a show until Tuesday night.”

“These babies are staying in there until they decide to come out on their own, or the doctor says they need to come out.”

She rubbed her hands over her stomach slowly, smiling as she felt the babies respond to her touch. Her smiled faded slowly away and she spoke again. “I don’t want people to be mad at me, though.”

Richard placed a hand over her belly. “If they’re going to be mad at you for keeping my children safe and healthy, then I don’t care what they think.”

Layla gently stroked his hand, loving the feel of the fine hairs on her fingers. “Is it horrible that I don’t love being pregnant? I mean, I love getting to feel the babies move and everything, but the rest of it,” she trailed off. “I feel like a bad person.”

His smile was so gentle that it made her heart ache. “You’re not a bad person. You’re doing something very difficult and everyone is watching and feels entitled to tell you what to do. I’m proud of you for not crying every day.”

She sniffled, feeling the tears start to form. “I sort of want to cry now. Is that okay? If I just cry?”

“Come here.” It took them a minute to work out a position where he could comfortably hold her – her stomach made many of their favorite cuddling positions impossible – but soon her head was resting on his chest and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. The tears were quiet and tired and didn’t last long but he felt her relax as they stopped and she stayed tucked against him as they watched the rest of the film. They had ten more weeks to go before they hit the 32 week goal from their obstetrician, and hopefully another eight weeks after that. He honestly didn’t know how they were going to get through it without Layla losing her mind. He was going to have to think of something, but right now his mind was empty. He’d start with looking for a charity after Layla fell asleep. He’d help her build her nest out of pillows that had to be situated just right and stroke her hair until she fell asleep and then go do that. At least it was a start.


	13. Mermaids and Whales

Layla didn’t have to bite the pillow to keep quiet as Richard thrust into her. His hands were on her hips rather than her waist which had disappeared. She tried to enjoy the feel of him but couldn’t concentrate. Finally she gave up trying to pretend. “Can we stop?”

Richard’s steady pace faltered and then halted. “What?” He had never heard her ask to stop before.

“Can we just… _not_?”

Richard pulled out and sank back on his heels. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

Layla snorted and then started laughing. She toppled over onto her side and wrapped an arm around her belly as her laughter continued until tears were dampening her flushed cheeks. Richard watched in confusion as she hiccupped and then her giggle dissolved into sobs. He stretched out next to her and stroked her hair back from her face. “What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“Everything,” she whispered.  

“Everything?” he asked with a smile and an arched eyebrow.

Layla struggled upright. “Everything! My hips hurt. My back hurts. My ankles hurt.  _I_ hurt. I waddle because all the ligaments in my pelvis are loose and it hurts when they stretch and these two keep moving while we’re having sex and it’s very distracting and I can’t enjoy it when they’re doing flip turns or slide tackles or punching each other or whatever they’re doing in there. I am huge and I’m going to get huger. I already look like I’m nine months pregnant and I have three more months to go and I don’t know how I can physically do that and I swear your child is poking me in the cervix and I can’t deal with you poking me from the other side too!”  She awkwardly rolled over, climbed off the bed and waddled into the en suite and slammed the door behind her.

“You were the one who suggested we get pregnant right away. This wasn’t just my idea!” Richard yelled after her.

The door opened and Layla stood there naked, the fire in her eyes matching the flame of her hair. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that? It’s not like I don’t want to have our kids, but pregnancy sucks and you get to continue on like nothing’s changed and I’m the only one suffering for  _our_ decision.”

“Oh, I’m suffering too, darling.” Layla’s face went red and then blanched so white he could count her freckles from across the room before her mouth puckered shut and she slammed the door. The sound of the lock clicking into place was new and unfamiliar.

Richard scrubbed his hands over his face. That hadn’t gone well. Their sex life, the one thing that they’d never had any struggles with, had been shrinking as her stomach grew, and frankly, he was tired of having to figure out the logistics of her belly when he just wanted to fuck. He stalked out of the bedroom and went to go pour himself another glass of wine. He tripped over her shoes that she’d left in the middle of the living room floor, not bothering to put them away as she headed straight to the kitchen from the front door after getting home from work. At least they were flats and not stilettos this time Stilettos hurt much worse to trip over. He didn’t bother picking them up, wondering if she would ever learn to clean up after herself. He’d picked up her shoes every day for her for almost a year now. Sooner or later it was going to have to stop or the kids would be cleaning up after her.

He poured himself a glass of the wine he’d had with dinner. Dinner had been a solo affair. Layla hadn’t bothered waiting for him as rehearsals had run late so she had already eaten by the time he had gotten home. The fridge had a variety of leftovers as Layla could only eat a hamster’s serving worth at a time before she was full. Of course, she then ate again an hour later. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d gotten through a full film without having to pause in the middle for snacks and a potty break. Maybe pregnancy was just training him for parenthood.

He took another sip of the wine. It really was a remarkable vintage. Layla had picked up the bottle of pinot noir last week after someone at work had recommended it. At least he still had booze to keep him company while his wife sulked in the bathroom. Her dishes from her last round of eating were still on the coffee table. She’d managed to eat most of the salad she’d made in an attempt to get in the recommended amount of green leafy vegetables into her diet. The additional eating for twins was difficult for someone who had been a size two for years as a job requirement but she rarely complained. She’d cut chocolate completely out of her diet in the last few weeks, fretting about empty calories that weren’t packing the most value for the babies. Personally, he thought she was worrying too much. But Layla would always find something to worry about. He was constantly talking her off of one cliff after another.  He picked up her bowl and empty water glass and took them into the kitchen and put them in the sink as her mobile sounded with Izzy’s ring tone. It had gone off several times this evening but Layla hadn’t answered it. Richard picked up the phone. Izzy was his friend too. He wanted to know what was going on that was so important she kept calling.

“Hello?”

“Why are you answering Layla’s phone?”

“She’s…” he paused as he decided how much of what was going on he wanted to disclose, “she’s crying.”

“Oh god. I swear I’m going to kill those women.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Which women?”

There was an awkward pause. “Is that not what she’s crying about?”

He could hear her eyeing him suspiciously through the phone. “What happened, Isabella?”

“Wow, full name. You’re going to be a great dad.”

He gripped the counter to keep from snarling. “Isabella Caroline, what happened?”

“A bunch of the girls from work went out to lunch today and she ate her meal.”

“And?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.

“Richard. She  _ate_  in front of them.”

He wondered what was so significant about that. What else were you supposed to do at lunch? And then his knowledge of Layla’s office culture kicked in. “Ohhhhhh.”

“Right. ‘Remember, being pregnant doesn’t give you an excuse to get fat’ was the nicest of the little jibes they made.”

He reached for the bottle of wine and his eye fell on the empty vase. He stared at it, trying to remember the last time he’d brought her flowers. He’d fallen out of the habit when he was in Leeds and he hadn’t done it since. “God. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“What did you do?”

“I have to go fix it now.” He hung up without saying goodbye and corked the bottle of wine. There was a lot left over since Layla hadn’t had any. He’d have to find a nice Barbaresco for after she could drink again.

Feeling like the world’s worst husband, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Layla, can you come out here?”

There was a long silence. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Layla, I’m sorry. Please come out here so I can apologize in person.”

There was a short pause and then she quietly said, “I’m stuck.”

Richard blinked several times. “Did you just say you’re stuck?”

“Yes.”

He rested his forehead against the door. “How are you stuck?”

“I can’t get out of the tub.”

Richard clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. When he had himself under control, he said, “Are you hurt?”

“No.” She sounded pitiful.

“Alright. I’m going to go get something to jimmy the lock. I’ll have you out in a jiffy.”

A few minutes later, the lock popped open. He opened the door and peeked inside. Layla was sitting in the empty bathtub with both of her hands over her face. “Did you have a nice bath?”

“I didn’t even have a bath. I can’t have a hot bath because the babies could get too hot so I just sat in the tub hoping it would have some of the emotional effect but now I can’t get out. I’m like a beached whale.”

Richard held out his hands to her and she grabbed ahold. She slowly levered herself to her feet and Richard wrapped an arm around her back and helped her out. She flexed her toes in the fluffy bathmat even though she couldn’t see them. “I used to be a mermaid.”

“You’re still my mermaid.” He slid his fingers through hers and tugged her out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t think I really understand exactly what it’s like to be constantly putting the well-being of two people who keep kicking you above your own.” He held out a wine glass with half a serving of wine in it.

“I can’t drink that.”

“Yes, you can. You haven’t had anything to drink since that glass of champagne when we found out we were having twins. Half a glass of wine isn’t going to hurt anything. And then you’re going to eat chocolate ice cream with me.”

She still hadn’t taken the glass of wine from him. “Richard, you know that’s not good for the babies.”

“It’s milk, Layla. Babies love milk. And more importantly, it’s good for you. You can’t just take care of the babies. You have to take care of yourself, and not just your body but your happiness as well. You need to be happy and I’ve done a crap job helping out lately, but I’ll be better.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she sniffed. “It’s so hard. I’m trying to do all I can, but the different parts of my world want different things and there’s no way to make it all work.”

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Then don’t. Give up on trying to make it all work and just focus on what is important.”

She sniffed again and a single tear fell onto her cheek. “It’s all important.”

Richard gripped her chin and brought her face up to look at him. “You first. Then the babies. Everything else can go fuck itself.”

She placed her hand over his heart. “What about you?”

“I’m a grown man. I can fuck myself as well.”

Layla giggled and then sighed. “I can’t even do that anymore. I can’t reach right.”

Richard sat down on the bed and then patted the bed. “C’mere.”

Layla climbed onto the bed and Richard gently pressed her onto her back. “I’m not supposed to be on my back.”

Richard smiled across gritted teeth. “Then roll over on your side.”

“I don’t want to have sex right now.”

He stroked his hand slowly along her thigh. “I was going to give you an orgasm. You may not be able to reach but I can.”

She struggled back into a sitting position. “I don’t want one, though.”

“What do you mean you don’t want one? Who doesn’t want one?”

“Me!” She waved her hands around her head in emphasis. “That’s why I said I don’t want one! I don’t want you to have to get me off like I’m a chore on your chore list. I hate having sex be such a struggle! I miss when it was just natural and spontaneous and didn’t involve four pillows and a crane and engineering schematics. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of all of this. I hate that we don’t fit anymore. I hate that our hugs don’t feel the same because my belly is in the way. I hate having to wear a liner in my knickers because everything’s wet. I make so much mucous I feel like I’m dripping and my nose is running all the time and I’ve been constipated for like four months now and I’m 28 and I have hemorrhoids and my maternity clothes are getting tight and I don’t know what I’m going to do for clothes next except maybe go to that camping store you love so much and buy a fucking tent and I’m miserable and fat and tired and I hate my body and I hate everything right now.”

“Fine. Then I’ll go and leave you alone since everything I’m doing is just making it worse.” He stood up and walked towards the door, expecting Layla to call him back, but she didn’t so he left. He’d go finish that bottle of wine and eat ice cream by himself.

A few hours later he came back to bed. Layla was asleep surrounded by a moat of pillows that propped her in what she described as the least uncomfortable position. He crawled into bed, making sure not to disturb her and pulled up the blanket. Three more months of this and then it would be over. _The Crucible_  ended September 13th, and if the babies hadn’t arrived by then, he would bribe her OB to induce her the next morning. He could survive three more months, but not three months and a day.


	14. The (very early) Morning after the Night before

Richard jolted awake to the sound of Layla yelling in the bathroom. “What was that?”

“I am not fat I am pregnant!”

He sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. “That’s right.”

She stomped out of the bathroom, still completely naked from earlier that evening and glared at him, both fists propped on her hips. “Is there any ice cream left?”

He yawned and scratched his chest wondering why she was glaring at him. “Yeah. There’s a couple… different…flavors…” He slowly finished as she marched out of the room.

“Your dick better be hard by the time I get back in there,” she yelled over her shoulder.

Richard blinked. And then he blinked again. He looked at the clock. 1:13 am. Apparently something had happened in the last three hours that he had slept through. He wondered if she was serious about his dick.

She walked back into the bedroom with a carton of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. “Why isn’t your dick hard?” she asked around a mouthful of strawberry cheesecake.

“You have to give me a minute, darling. I was sound asleep.”

“Touch it.” She jabbed her chin in its general direction and he laughed.

“You’re suddenly bossy.” He slid his hand down his stomach and under the sheet. His cock stirred and he wrapped his fingers around it.

“You want to know something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not fat I’m pregnant.”

“That’s right.”

“And you know what I’m doing?” She stabbed the spoon into the ice cream and picked up the glass of wine he had left on her nightstand and downed the small amount. “I’m having ice cream. You know who  _isn’t_  having ice cream?”

“Who?”

“Bitches at work. No ice cream for bitches.”

Richard’s laughter cracked through the air. “That’s right. No ice cream for bitches.”

“Pull down the sheet. I want to watch.”

She shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth as he pulled down the sheet, revealing his hardening cock. Layla slowly licked the bowl of the spoon as she stared at it and it hardened even faster. Richard kept his hand slowly stroking over the length of his shaft, sometimes rubbing his thumb over the head when he reached the top.

“Ice cream is fruit and milk and that’s good for babies.”

“That’s right.”

“Or it can be chocolate and milk and that’s good for mommies.”

“Yes.”

“And if I can’t have wine I get my fucking ice cream, damn it.”

“Absolutely.” His breathing was starting to quicken and Layla licked her lips rather than the spoon.

She dropped the carton on the nightstand and climbed on the bed. “Gimme.” She straddled his hips and sank down onto his cock with a shattered groan as her eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh fucking fuck,” she whispered.

“God, Layla, please don’t say you want it slow.”

“No. Fast. Fuck me fast and hard and make me come.”

She fell forward and braced her hands on his chest as he grabbed her hips and thrust into her with all of his frustrated might. She swore once and pressed her arm over her breasts to keep them from bouncing so much but just bit her lip and shoved her hips back onto him as he thrust into her again. They didn’t even bother trying to kiss as she rode him, grinding her clit against him with each shift of their bodies. She had so much extra blood in her body that within a minute she could feel her orgasm starting to build, the muscles in her stomach tightening inexorably. “Richard, tell me you still think I’m sexy.”

“Fuck Layla, you are sexy and hot and gorgeous,” he underscored his words with the pistoning of his hips, “and you are mine. My naughty sexy girl, and I am going to fuck you until you come screaming.”

Those words gave her the confidence boost she needed to let herself go. Her head fell back and she grabbed his hands, holding them tighter on her hips as she feverishly rode him the last final few seconds she needed before she cried out his name. She gasped for breath as he kept thrusting, not willing for it to be over yet and the feel of him rubbing against her clit kept her orgasm going, wave after wave after wave of vibrating light making her tremble until his eyes squeezed shut and every tendon in his neck stood out in relief and he slammed into her once, twice, and then again, and Layla gasped and shook with each pulse of his come into her body.

She panted slowly until she had the strength to roll off of him. “You comfortable on your back like that?”

“Uhhuh.” That’s all he could manage. Breathing took the rest of his effort right now.

“Okay.” She rolled over and pressed her back to his side, and then started arranging the rest of the pillows around her, one under her stomach, another between her knees, a third to hug. “Tomorrow. We are going to the bookstore. And we’re buying  _The Joy of Pregnant Sex_ or whatever they call it and then we are going to the market. And you know what we’re buying at the market?”

“Ice cream?”

“Damn straight. And no spinach.”

“No spinach.”

“You know who eats spinach?”

“Who?”

“Bitches.”

Richard laughed and kissed the back of her head. “And you’re not a bitch.”

“Nope. I’m pregnant.”

“Yep. You’re pregnant.”

And just like that, she was asleep again.


	15. Welcome Home

Layla sat in a comfortable chair in the middle of her new closet watching Izzy carefully hang her clothes. She had tried to help with the unpacking all day but people kept insisting she sit down and put her feet up. Even her mother, who had gone to Mass early on this Sunday so she could come down and help, had insisted that Layla needed to sit. Finally Izzy had struck on the brilliant idea of unpacking Layla’s extensive wardrobe. Richard had carried in the chair from their bedroom, an ottoman had been brought up from downstairs, and she had been seated, with a snack, in the walk-in closet to direct Izzy’s efforts.

“When are the Olivier awards?”

Izzy looked back at Layla from the Tony Ward gown she was hanging. “April I think. Aren’t you counting your chickens before your eggs have hatched though?”

“I’m wondering how much time I’m going to have to get into red carpet shape. Oscars are in March, so I’m imagining I’ll have about six months to fit into one of these lovelies again.” She leaned to the side to let her fingertips brush against a piece of beaded lace.

“You think he’s going to get nominated for an Oscar?”

“Of course I do.  _The Hobbit_  should get tons of nominations, and even if he doesn’t, I’ll try and talk him into going to see everyone else. Graham might be there,” she teased Izzy. “I seem to remember the two of you getting along quite well at the wedding.”

“Yah, well, I don’t think I’m on Oscar invite lists now, am I?”

“I don’t know how those work, but if Richard’s going, then I’m going, and I’ll poke around and see what I can find. At the very least, I should be able to shake loose invites to some after parties.”

Izzy held up a Prada dress to herself to see if it would be worthy of an Oscar party. “You really are the best friend ever, you know that, right?”

“Of course.”

Izzy held up a pair of Manolo mary janes. “When did you get these?”

“I’ve had those for a few years now. You want to borrow?”

Izzy rolled her eyes at Layla like she was stupid for even asking. “Yes.”

“Good. Someone should be wearing my high heels since I can’t right now. Though there’s a teensy part of me that is happy that I have an excuse to wear flats to work every day.”

Izzy began putting Layla’s extensive collection of shoes on the shelves. “I’ll put your flats in the middle where they’re easiest to reach right now. When you have the babies and feel like wearing heels again, let me know and I’ll come rearrange them again.”

“You are too perfect.”

Izzy laughed and dropped an impeccable curtsey before turning back to the numerous shoe boxes she still had to open. “But back on the important topic. You aren’t really going to wear something you already own to the Oscars, are you?”

Layla laughed at the look of horror on Izzy’s face. “Of course not. It will probably be my first chance to dress up since the babies are born and I want Richard to remember the Layla he married rather than the mum he sees every day. And besides, you saw some of those designs coming out of Paris earlier this month. Mumma needs a new pair of shoes and a new dress.”

“And some new sparkles to go with them. If he gets a best actor nod, you can probably even get Harry Winston to let you have some on loan.” She stopped what she was doing and clutched a pair of strappy Jimmy Choos to her chest as she got lost in her fantasy. “Or Tiffany. Imagine getting Tiffany to let you peruse their vaults to borrow something. Ooooh, borrow one of the original Schlumberger pieces. You might never get another chance.”

“With Richard, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of chances. And besides, I was thinking more along the lines of vintage Cartier. Maybe one of their Belle Époque necklaces.”

Izzy nodded and put the sparkling heels on the shelf. “Good choice. Well, between Richard’s name and your reputation, you should be able to get your hands on whatever you want.”

Layla finally voiced one of the worries that had been nagging at her as her maternity leave loomed ever closer. “Do you think people will forget me while I’m on leave?”

“Absolutely not.” Izzy peeked out the doorway into the bedroom and then shut the door to the closet. “You didn’t hear it from me, but word is Margot is waiting to see if you come back from maternity leave to retire.”

Layla sat bolt upright in her chair, or at least as close to it as she could manage at this point. “Really? Why?”

Izzy looked around the empty closet to see if everyone else thought this question was as ridiculous as she did. “Why do you think? Because she wants you to take over as fashion editor.”

“But…but…I’ll only be twenty-nine! There’s so many people with years more experience!”

“But none of them have your genius, sweetheart. You have worked your arse off, literally and figuratively for your job, and people know how good you are at what you do.”

Layla sat silently and nibbled at the plate of fresh fruit she had balanced on her stomach as she contemplated being fashion editor before she hit thirty. Eventually, she shook herself back to attention. “Well, I’m going to ignore the rumor for now, because that’s all it is. So tell me, do I go big name like Dior or Vera Wang or should I go for a small, lesser-known designer and give someone their big break?”

The girls talked fashion for the rest of the afternoon until all of Layla’s and Richard’s clothes were unpacked and carefully hung. Layla insisted on putting away Richard’s underthings herself, but other than that, she was remarkably well-behaved and stayed off of her feet.

That night, after everyone had left, taking cardboard boxes and bubble wrap with them, and Layla was done eating, for Richard knew how dangerous it was to his own safety to interrupt Layla when she was hungry at this point, he took her outside to stand on the front step. Two pyramidal topiaries in white urns, a housewarming present from James and Patrick, flanked the front door. “I didn’t get to do this earlier because we got here at different times, so I’m going to do it now.” He very carefully picked her up, and once she had wrapped her arms around his neck, he carried her over the threshold into their new home. “Welcome home, sweetness.”

Layla smiled at her husband and stroked her hand over his bearded cheek before she kissed him. “Welcome home, my love.”


	16. Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Layla handed Richard the mug before she carefully lowered herself onto the sofa next to him. “Tea with honey and lemon.”

“Thank you.”

Layla winced. “Next role you play, pick one with less shouting. It hurts my heart listening to how raw your voice is.”

“Well, my next role is Daddy, so there will be lots less shouting in that one.” He spread his hand over the large swell of her belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Nary a Braxton-Hicks contraction, much less a real one. They’re being good. I told them they can bounce on my bladder as much as they like and I won’t complain if they just stay put.”

“They’ll come when they’re ready.”

Layla smiled and shifted his hand so he could feel his son turning somersaults. “Well, it feels like they’re knocking down walls to put on an extra wing, so I think they’re planning on sticking around for a bit.”

Richard slowly stroked his hand over her stomach, feeling his children moving while he drank his tea. “What do you want to do today?” he finally asked.

“Absolutely nothing. I just want to be with you and soak up the feel of it being just the two of us. Sometime in the last week I went from wanting them out to wanting them to stay in there because I’m scared I’ll never have time with you again once they’re here.”

“We’ll make time. I know the books all say the first year with twins is just about surviving, but we’ll figure it out. Your family, my family, nannies, baby sitters, whatever it takes. I waited too many years for you to give you up to our children so quickly.”

“Izzy and Deb came over yesterday and helped me get the nursery ready to go. And I packed my bag for hospital yesterday. I can’t decide if it should go in your car or mine.” She had finally given in to Richard’s request that she get herself a car. It now sat next to Richard’s in the garage, two bases for car seats installed in the back seat of each vehicle.

Richard raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Just the one bag?”

“Yes, just one.” She paused and a laugh burbled up. “Well, one for me, and one for the babies, and one for you.”

“Do you really think the babies need their own bag?”

“Yes, because blankets and toys and three different types of dummies in case they don’t like one and I couldn’t decide on a coming home outfit so there’s like six outfits, and then some little kimono tops so their belly buttons won’t rub and socks and hats and little tiny nail clippers.”

Richard’s smile grew as her list of things she had packed lengthened. “I guess you’re right. They obviously need their own bag.” His children weren’t even born yet and they had larger wardrobes than he did. Not that he minded. Layla had arranged the closet in the nursery according to sizes and it appeared to his untutored eyes that they had clothes for the first two years of life, though he was absolutely certain that this would in no way prevent his bride from buying them more outfits. Just as their already overflowing bookshelf would in no way prevent him from bringing home more books that they absolutely needed to have read to them.

“I just want everything to be perfect.”

“It will be.”

She laid back next to him, scooting over so she was closer but not wanting to interfere with his ability to touch her stomach. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Richard wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He kissed the top of her head as she rested her head on his shoulder and left his mouth there for a while as he tried to come up with words of reassurance. Having seen a woman go through labor before, everything he thought seemed shallow. “You won’t be going through it alone. You’ll have me and more importantly, you’ll have an epidural.”

Layla smiled and snuggled in closer, content to spend hours simply watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. With him doing eight shows a week and her still working full time, Sundays were their one day to actually be together for any amount of time with both of them awake. They spent the rest of the day on the sofa, always within touching distance of the other. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. Richard eventually ordered food. Layla got half way through her book before falling asleep, using Richard as a pillow. He played with her hair while she slept, weaving it between his fingers until they were meshed together.

Layla eventually waddled over to the fridge – even Richard admitted that she waddled now, though he found it adorable – and got a pint of ice cream and two spoons. She came back and lowered herself onto the sofa again. They ate chocolate ice cream and Richard flipped through the baby name book suggesting girl names. Layla made noises of evaluation since her mouth was usually full. Only if she actually used words to indicate that she liked a possibility did Richard highlight it in the book. There were very few highlighted names. When she had raspberried five names he put the book away.

He followed her up the staircase, keeping his hands out in case she stumbled, and then into the bedroom. She pulled off his shirt and he did the same thing to her. They made soft slow sweet love in their new bedroom and then Richard helped Layla arrange her pillows so she was as close to comfortable as she could get at this point in her pregnancy. He slept with one arm under her pillow so she could hold his hand and his other hand rested on her stomach. The babies would wake in the middle of the night and their kicking would wake him as well. It was in the dark of the night that he would talk to his children. He’d tell them about his plans for what they would do when they came outside. He’d tell them stories from his childhood. He’d tell them to be easy on their mum. Mostly he just told them he loved them. Layla sometimes woke to the feel of a particularly impertinent elbow or knee, and she found herself lulled back to sleep my Richard’s singing just as the babies were. It was there, in the big bed in the house that they built together, that they began to be a family. 


	17. Schedule? What Schedule?

Richard shucked off his clothes on the way to the bedroom, leaving a trail behind him. All he could think about was getting more sleep before he had to wake up and go perform John Proctor again. He really should have taken Tuesday night off as well, but hindsight was always perfect. A glance at his watch as he unbuckled it let him know he could get four more hours of sleep in. At least the Ambien he had taken for the flight had worked. Slightly surprised to see Layla still in bed, he kissed her hair and then wrapped himself around her and quickly fell back asleep.

The alarm on his mobile went off much too quickly for his liking, but he dragged himself out of bed anyway. He took a quick shower and pulled on clean clothes before heading downstairs to make something to eat. Layla had obviously picked up his laundry as there were no clothes in the hallway. A twinge of guilt struck him at the thought of her bending over to pick up after him.

He made his way downstairs to see her puttering around in the kitchen making tea. Her belly was uncovered as she was dressed in just a pair of low riding yoga pants and a comfortable bra and he kissed her first before placing a kiss on her stomach. “How are my favorite people in the world?”

“We’re waiting for the delivery guy to show up with dinner. He should be here any minute. And I made you tea with honey and lemon.”

He took the cup from her with another kiss. “Why are you home today? Couldn’t wait to see me?”

“Well, yes, of course I wanted to see you.” She tucked her hair back behind her ear and stirred her own cup of tea.

Richard put his cup down and tilted her face up with a few warm fingers under her chin. “Is everything alright?”

Layla closed her eyes briefly. “I had a few contractions yesterday.”

His hands dropped to her stomach. “You did? Are you still? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

Layla smoothed her fingers over his forehead, caressing away the worry lines that had sprung into existence. “No, we don’t need to go. It only lasted for about an hour or so. It’s just warm ups. Dr. Olson thinks I should be resting more than I am, so I’m dropping to half time at work, and at least some of that will be done from home.”

Richard stroked his hands over her stomach, smiling as he felt them move in response to his touch. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you worrying when you were across an ocean and couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Layla,” he started but she stopped his mouth with a kiss.

“I also don’t think you should plan on leaving London again until after these two make their grand entrance. I’m not sure they’re going to play along with the schedule I set for them.”

He nodded. “And you’ll tell me about every contraction from now on.”

Layla smiled, finding it amusing that he was still so sexy even when being stern with her. “I promise.”

The doorbell rang. Richard kissed her again. “Now go take your tea and sit with your feet up while I get supper ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

He growled deep in his throat and patted her on the bottom. “That’s my good girl.”


	18. A Rose by Any Other Name

Layla stretched out on the sofa with a pillow tucked between her knees. “I asked my friends for some suggestions for girl names. Tell me what you think.” She picked up her notepad. “Jill?”

Richard’s eyebrow rose. “Jack and Jill?” He rolled his eyes and went back to eating his pad thai.

Layla scratched that name off of the list. “Olivia?”

“Pig.”

“What?” She wasn’t sure she had heard him right, though choosing a name had become a weird exercise in word association.

“Olivia is a pig in kid’s books.”

Apparently her mother had never read those to her. She had been raised mostly on  _A Child’s First Illustrated Bible._ “Oh. So no?” He nodded and she scratched off another name.

“Someone else suggested Clementine, but I know how you feel about that one.”

“I don’t want her to be a fruit or a flower or a city. I want her to be her own person.”

Layla sighed. “Well, there goes a lot of these. No Poppy or Lilly or Rose or Vienna.”

“Sausage.”

Layla rolled her eyes. How could he associate Vienna with sausage instead of the fabulous balls or the Christmas markets was beyond her. “This child is going to be graduating university with no name at this rate.” She looked back at her list. “Ophelia?”

“Went crazy and killed herself.”

“Charlotte?”

“That’s possible.”

Layla circled that one. “Isabella.”

“My sister in Robin Hood.”

“Claire?”

“That’s nice.”

“Vera?”

“No fashion designers,” he said around a mouthful of food. He wasn’t sure why Layla had chosen to do this right now when he had to leave in just a few minutes.

“I guess that means I’ll cross out Vivienne and Chanel while I’m at it then.”

“Bonnie?”

He paused. “I am going to say no but I don’t know why. Too Scottish?”

“How about Maggie?”

“That’s possible. I’ll probably end up calling her Magpie. And Margaret is my mother’s name.”

“Hmmmm.” Layla put a question mark next to Maggie. She wasn’t sure about Magpie as a nickname. “How about Gemma?”

“Gemma?” He stopped for a second. “Gemma Armitage. I like it. Jack and Gemma. Too matching?”

“Jack and Gemma.” Layla tried out the words on her own tongue. “Gemma and Jack. I don’t think so. I think if we tried spelling Gemma with a J then it would be too twee, but I like Gemma, and Gemma and Jack coordinate but don’t match.”

“Gemma and Jack. Gemma Claire. Gemma Claire Armitage. GCA. I think it works.”

“I think we just named our daughter.”

“One more test.” She levered herself off of the sofa and waddled to the back door.

“What are you doing?”

“Yelling it out the backdoor to see if it sounds dumb when you’re calling your kid to come in.” She opened the door and stepped onto the deck. “Gemma Claire Armitage, you get in here right now!” She turned around with a smile to find that Richard had joined her. “I think we did it.”

Richard smiled. “Should I yell for Jack while we’re out here?”

“I’ll yell; you save your voice.” She turned back to the expanse of grass. “Jack…” She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “We don’t have a middle name for Jack.”

Richard’s eyes sagged closed. He had been relieved that the naming game was over.  “Shit,” he muttered.

“No, we are not naming our son Jack Shit,” Layla replied in an attempt to lighten his mood.

Richard tiredly rubbed his hand over his face. “Well now we can’t even name him Jack because all I’ll think about is Jack Shit.” He turned around and went back into the house.

“Are you serious?” Layla followed him in disbelief.

“Yes. I am. I have to go, love, or I’m going to be late.” He kissed her, a process that guaranteed he was going to be at least a few minutes behind schedule, and left for the theatre.

Layla flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the baby name book. This time she turned to the boy names.


	19. Leaking

Layla stopped her pacing up and down the hall when the door from the garage opened. “Why are you home so early? It’s not even the interval yet.”

He sat down and began to unlace his boots. “We had to cancel the show. The roof’s leaking.”

“It’s not the only one.” She stopped and grimaced, pressing a hand to her side.

Richard hurried to her. “Sweetness, this is real this time, isn’t it?” He’d never seen any of the contractions she’d had over the last few weeks make her appear pained.

Layla rested her head on his chest and tried to keep breathing. When the tension in her belly finally relaxed, she nodded. “My water broke about an hour ago. I was just about to call Izzy to take me to the birthing centre and then call you the minute the show was over, but since you’re home, I think I’ll just let you do that.”

He took her mobile from her hand and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. “Everything’s already packed and in the boot. You ready for this?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think I am.”

He took her face in his hands and gazed into her big scared eyes. “I’ll be with you the whole time. You can do this. I believe in you.”

She grabbed onto both of his wrists. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Layla Jane O’Connoll Armitage, with all my heart.”

She took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. “Then let’s go have some babies.”

>< 

As soon as they got to the birthing centre, Layla started telling every person with a nametag that she needed an immediate epidural. By the time she got to her room, her OB was just arriving along with an anesthesiologist.

“Alright, Layla, let’s see how far along you are and then we’ll get you your epidural.” Layla pulled faces as Dr. Olson poked and prodded. “Well, all that practice labor you’ve been doing over the last few weeks has been quite productive. You’re already seven centimeters dilated. I’m going to let Dr. Gakhars start your epidural and then I’ll be back to check on you again.”

Another contraction hit and Layla grabbed Richard’s hand and squeezed. He stroked her hair and breathed louder than normal so she could follow the sound of it. Ninety seconds of grimacing and hand squeezing later, she relaxed.

“Now, over on your side and curl up in a ball,” Dr. Gakhars said.

“In a ball? Are you bleeding serious? Have you seen my stomach?”

Dr. Gakhars laughed. “I know, it seems like a cruel joke, but as much of one as you can manage, dear. It helps keep your spine steady.”

Layla heaved herself over onto her side and Richard helped her pull her knees up. Cool antiseptic was swabbed over the insertion site. “Here we go, a little pinch –,”

Layla hissed as the needle broke the skin.

“And we’re in. You can relax now and I’m just going to get this dosage perfect.  You should be able to feel the pressure of the contractions, but they shouldn’t hurt, so you tell me how I’m doing.”

Half an hour later Dr. Olson returned to find the two of them catching up on The Great British Bakeoff on Layla’s laptop. “You should sell these epidurals for monthly cramping. They’re delicious.”

Dr. Olson laughed. “I don’t think the NHS would pay for that. Let’s see how you’re progressing.” A minute later she took off her gloves. “You’re doing great. At this rate I’ll think you’ll probably be ready to push in a few hours. I’m going to send the nurses in to hook up the fetal monitors. Are you doing alright?”

“As long as the epidural keeps working I’ll be fine. It just feels like a very weird yoga workout right now.”

“Good. I’ll be back in a bit.”

>< 

A few hours later, Layla stopped the episode. “There’s no pause anymore.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her stomach. “They just keep coming.”

Richard hit the call button as he looked at the monitors. The nurse had taught him how to read the output so he could tell when she was having contractions. “You’re doing great, sweetness. I think you’re in transition.” He had probably read more about labour than Layla had. She’d read one book, said, “I’m getting an epidural,” and refused to talk about it anymore. “This is completely normal.”

One of the nurses came in. “You paged?”

“I think she’s in transition,” Richard answered as Layla shouted, “Go get the epidural lady!”

The nurse smiled. “I’ll go get Dr. Olson.”

Richard found Layla’s iPod and gently put her earbuds in and turned up the music so she could be distracted at their labour room was turned into a delivery room. Two bassinets were rolled in, and nurses started lingering. He knew most of the people were there in case of an emergency and hoped they wouldn’t be needed.

As the room was completely transformed, Layla grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him down to her level. “I have to go to the bathroom really bad,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can hold it.”

Dr. Olson plucked out one of the earbuds. “That’s your body saying it’s time to have some babies. Time to sit up and push, Layla.”

“That fast?”

“Your body seems to labour quickly. You’re one of the lucky ones. Now sit up, and Richard, you grab one foot and Clarabelle is going to grab your other one and pull your knees back for you, and you just listen to your body and when it says push, you push.”

Layla looked at Richard in a panic. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He kissed her forehead. “I know you can, sweetness.”

Her body said, “Push,” and she kept her eyes focused on Richard’s face as she obeyed.

She lost the sense of the passage of time. It was counted in pushes and ice chips and cool flannels being wiped across her face instead of seconds and minutes. Richard had never heard the sounds she was making before, a cross between a wail and a cry, and he kept telling her how well she was doing. “Alright, this should be it. One more big push.”

Layla bore down with all her might. Her scream was cut off as a baby cried.

“Good job, mum. You have a daughter.”

She collapsed back against the bed, panting for breath as the doctor put a squalling purple baby on her stomach. “Oh my god.” She delicately touched the wrinkled little thing. “You’re so tiny, baby girl.” She looked frantically around. “She needs a blanket. Where’s a blanket?”

A nurse handed her a soft pink and blue striped blankets and Layla hurriedly wrapped it around her new child and then snuggled her into her arms. “Hello, Gemma. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, and I look at beautiful things for a living, so I know what I’m talking about.”

Richard stroked his fingertip against his daughter’s cheek. “Hello, child. Welcome to our family.”

Layla looked up at her husband. “She’s perfect.” She brushed her finger over the velvet cap of dark hair covering the tiny girl’s head.

Dr. Olson said, “Why don’t you give her to the nurse now?”

“No!” Layla tightened her arms around her baby. “She’s mine.”

“Well, you have another one to deliver, and I think it might be best if you let someone else hold Gemma while you do that.”

“Oh. Oh right.” She had been so swept away in the loveliness of her baby that she had completely forgotten everything else. Carefully she kissed her daughter on the forehead and then handed her to Richard. “Don’t let anyone steal her.”

“I will make sure no one steals our daughter.” He kissed his baby girl. “I am, however, going to give her to this nice nurse to hold while I help you deliver our son, but I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t leave the room.”

Layla glared at the nurse as she took Gemma from her husband. “Don’t drop her.”

“I’ll be very careful. I’m just going to take her right over to the other side of the room and give her a bit of a wash and measure her.”

Layla’s response was cut off with a grimace. “Time to push again.”

This time it didn’t seem as long, maybe because it was familiar and she knew what to expect, maybe because her body had some experience at it, but soon Dr. Olson placed another little baby on her stomach. “And here’s your son.”

“Well aren’t you beautiful, too?” She reached out a hand and a nurse gave her another blanket. Quickly she wrapped up her son. Tears began to drip down her cheeks. “The two most beautiful babies ever.” She looked up at Richard, who was bent over, getting a closer look at his son. “We have babies, Richard.”

He kissed her. “The most beautiful babies ever.” He gently touched the pulsing fontanel and stroked the thin fuzz of ginger hair. “Just like their mother.”

“Richard. You’re a dad and I’m a mum. I’m going to be the best mum ever.” She kissed the tiny little face of her son. “Best mum ever. That’s my promise, little man. I’ll love you no matter what.” The nurse came back over with Gemma and handed her to her father and Richard sat down on the bed next to Layla.

“Gemma, I’m your dad and that’s your mum, and here’s your brother Jasper. We’re all a family now. Now and forever.”

Layla leaned forward enough to kiss her husband. “For the rest of time,” she whispered, remembering the night that they had married.

Richard kissed the mother of his children. “And eternity after.”

_Gemma Clair, 5lbs 6oz, 19 inches, 12:03am and Jasper Crispin, 5lbs 2oz, 19 inches, 12:27am, August 26, 2014._

_ _


	20. First Night Home

Richard quietly pushed open the door to their bedroom. A lamp near the head of the bed was the only light, casting Layla’s hair into a halo of fire. She looked up at his entry and smiled before turning her attention back to the little bundle in her arms. He shed his shoes and coat before sitting next to her on the bed. “How are things going?”

“Honestly, I’m not quite sure. My milk has come in and now my breasts are bigger than their heads. They seem to be nursing fine somehow, though. I just wish I could figure out how to nurse them both at the same time.”

Richard stroked a fingertip over the little dark head at his wife’s breast. “It’s only been a few days. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

The baby lying on the mattress at her side began to squeak. “Looks like you're home just in time, Dad. You want to change Jack’s nappy and then I’ll nurse him while you burp this little girl?” Richard reached across her and carefully picked up his son from the top of the blanket. The baby fit easily in both of his hands, still the most comfortable when all bunched up like he’d been for the last eight months.

“Come here, Jasper. Let’s get you a clean bottom.” Richard quickly stripped the soiled nappy off and got him into a clean one before tugging the tiny nightgown back down over his feet. Cradling his son in his arm, he swayed and softly sang to the wide-eyed infant until Layla was done with Gemma. They carefully switched babies and he threw a burp-cloth over his shoulder and tucked his daughter up against his chest. He rubbed circles on the little girl’s back until he got one bubble to come up. “Do you have another bubble in there? Or is that it?”

He kept up the steady rubbing of her back as he watched Layla nursing. Her eyes were fixed on the little face in her arms and on the tiny fist pressed against her breast. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, she looked up at him. “It still feels unreal. I’m a mum.”

“Yes, you are.”

She wiped her hand across her cheek. “Sooner or later I won’t cry every time I look at them, right?”

Richard sat down next to her and she sagged against him. “Not every time. I would imagine. I just wonder how in the world I’m going to keep something so tiny and fragile safe when the world is so big and hard.”

Layla looked over to see his hand spread over the back of his daughter. “Well, it looks like Gemma is perfectly content to sleep on your shoulder. She gets that from her mum.”

Richard worked his other arm around Layla’s shoulder so she could rest her head on him as well. She closed her eyes and the only sounds in the room were breathing and the occasional gulping noise. Eventually Jasper finished nursing and Layla tucked him up against her shoulder so she could burp him. “How’s your little tummy, my Jack?”

“Jasper,” Richard murmured, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Jack for short,” Layla whispered against the tiny soft cheek. “Jasper is such a big name for a little boy, so for now I’m just going to call you Jack.”

Richard chuckled softly and Gemma squirmed as her bed shook. With a yawn he stood up and carefully swaddled Gemma before placing her in the cot next to their bed. He held his hands out for Jack and Layla kissed the little face before she handed him over. Another quick swaddle and he tucked in the little boy next to his sister and stroked both downy heads as a gentle smile took up what was becoming an accustomed position on his face.

He stripped down to his shorts and climbed into bed. Layla snuggled into his side as she had no more need for pillows, and rested her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. She whispered, “I love you,” and fell asleep almost instantly. He could hear her breathing and the soft noises of his sleeping babies. “I love you, too. And you. And you.”


	21. The Sleeping House

It was a sleeping house. Layla and Richard were living by the adage that when the babies sleep, you sleep. Aided by the love of family and friends, at least one person was there every day to help with food and laundry, allowing the two new parents the luxury of doing nothing but attend to the needs of their newborns. The first person to check on them in the morning typically found Richard and Layla both asleep in bed, each of them with a sleeping baby cradled on their chest. Richard’s arm was usually around Layla as he tried to hold his whole family, even while sleeping.

Right now though, everyone was awake. Gemma and Jack lay side by side on a blanket on the living room floor, stretching and kicking in the early afternoon sunshine. Richard sat on the floor sipping a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out to one side of the babies, and his back against the sofa. Layla was curled up on the sofa, drinking tea and scratching her nails lightly over Richard’s scalp.

“They’re not so bunchy anymore,” he said.

Layla smiled as their little frog legs kicked against the air. “They’ve realized that there’s room to move again. Things were getting a bit crowded there at the end.”

“And if you turn them over on their stomachs,” Layla’s mother added from the kitchen, where she was putting together a roast for dinner, “they’ll bunch right back up.”

Richard carefully turned them over onto their stomachs. “Should we try some tummy time?”

They were quickly greeted by two little bums up in the air, one covered in orange flowers, and the other in brown and white chevrons, as they both pulled their legs up under them. Richard laid down so he was facing them. “Come on. Try and lift your heads up.”

“Richard, don’t be too demanding. Technically they should still be on the inside.”

“I know.” He gently turned Gemma’s head so she was looking at Jack. “We’re just doing some baby yoga.” He dipped his head so he was looking directly at his babies. “You both do perfect child’s pose. So relaxed and very nice breathing.”

Layla smiled over the rim of her tea cup. He was as smitten with his babies as she could have hoped.

Layla’s mother perched on the edge of the sofa and handed her an envelope. “I’ve been looking for the right time to give you this, but I’m not sure there is a right time.”

Layla set down her tea and opened the envelope. She pulled out a photo of a woman in a hospital bed holding a baby. She’d never seen it before but she knew exactly who it was. “This is me and Aunt…this is me and my mum, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s the only picture of the two of you together and I want you to have it.” She knotted her fingers together in her lap. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. And I’m sorry for taking you from her. I’ve spent your whole life knowing that I caused my sister’s death, and I took it out on you, and there’s nothing I can do to fix that, but I am sorry. She loved you so much and I hated her more than anything and you got caught in the crossfire. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Layla looked at Richard in alarm as her mother dissolved in tears. Richard shrugged helplessly. Layla tentatively patted Veronica on the shoulder, and she grabbed Layla in a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

Layla held her mother while she cried and patted her back methodically. “I can’t say it’s alright,” she finally said. “I can’t say I forgive you either, because I don’t. At least not yet.” She looked at Richard and closed her eyes. “But you’re family. And you’ve been really helpful with Gemma and Jack. So,” she took a deep breath and let it out through her teeth, “we’ll sort of start over, okay? You love my kids and treat them the way you should have treated me. I have a feeling I can forgive a lot for someone who loves my kids.”

“I will.” Veronica wiped away the tears on her flushed cheeks. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but I’ll be better. And I do love the twins. They’re just precious.”

Layla’s smile was strained and she stood up. “They’ll know about my mum. But at least until they’re old enough to understand, they’ll just think you and Dad adopted me when mum died.”

Veronica started crying again. “Thank you.”

Layla didn’t say anything as she left the room and climbed the stairs, the picture of her and her mum carefully clasped in her fingers.

Richard sat down on the bed next to her a few minutes later, a baby in each arm. He tucked one against Layla and she wrapped her arm around her son and inhaled the sweet smell of his head. “I’m impressed you were able to do that.”

Her eyes were still closed. “I just don’t want these two growing up with the same hostility I did. And she’s family. It’s not like I can completely shut her off and still have contact with my siblings and my grandparents.”

“Nobody would have blamed you.”

She sighed softly as she scooted into a sitting position and kissed the top of her baby’s head, cradling him in her arms. “I know. And I still hate her. But I don’t have the energy to actively hate her right now. And I don’t want to teach these little ones to hate.”

“You’re an excellent mother, Layla.” He watched the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

“Tomorrow, do you think you find a frame for that picture of me and my mum?”

“Of course.”

“I wish she could see me. Me and her grandbabies.” The tears dripped from her face onto Jack’s little head and she smoothed them away, leaving dark streaks in his ginger fuzz.

Richard stroked her hair and her crying slowly ceased. Gemma began to fuss and Layla smiled. “You hungry, little one?”

She sat up and got ready to nurse. Richard fetched her nursing pillow that let her feed both of them at the same time. They had perfected their routine by now and forty-five minutes later, both of the babies were fed, burped, in clean nappies – purple butterflies and blue stripes this time – and asleep. Richard put the babies down in their cot and wrapped himself around Layla. Right now she needed all of his arms to herself. When Veronica quietly checked on them later, that’s how she found them, all four asleep, and Layla’s head pillowed on Richard’s chest, one of his hands in her hair and the other one over hers as it rested on his stomach. She left them to their slumber, knowing Layla had finally found the love she’d been deprived of her whole life. The photo of Patricia nursing Layla sat on the nightstand, watching over her baby and her grandbabies.


	22. Knee Dimples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> barely even a drabble, but one of those moments I wanted to capture

Layla sat crosslegged on the bed, Gemma and Jack both awake and kicking on the blanket in front of her. Richard lay next to them, dangling his fingers in front of his babies so they would reach for him. Most of the contact was still accidental, but it never failed to bring a grin to his face.

“My breasts are magic,” Layla announced.

“I’ve always found them to be so.”

She laughed and nudged his leg with her knee. “Not like that. Look at them. They’re getting little chub rolls.” She grabbed Jack’s foot and pressed a kiss to the bottom of it. “Little bitty chub rolls and dimply knees. My breasts made dimply knees.”

Richard smiled, either at her words or because Gemma had just grabbed his index finger and showed no sign of giving it back. “Magic indeed.”


	23. The Second First Time

Richard watched Layla swaying back and forth and cooing to Gemma while he changed Jack’s nappy again. He was fairly certain that Jack refused to poop until he had a fresh clean one to poop in. He knew that Jack wasn’t really smiling yet, but the look on his face after he messed another nappy sure looked like mischievous glee.

“There you go, little man. Another clean bottom for your highness.” He pulled the nightgown back down, swaddled him in a clean blanket, and picked up his son. “Full belly, clean bum. What do you say you and your sister go to sleep now so your mum and I can have some sleep too?” There was no verbal answer, but he kept swaying and rubbing the little back and felt Jack grow heavier in his hands.

Layla walked over to him and turned so he could see Gemma’s face against her shoulder. “She’s out,” he whispered. Layla laid her daughter down on the receiving blanket she’d already spread out on the bed and swaddled the little girl. The first week home she had tried to coordinate the blankets with the nightgowns. Now she just grabbed the top one off of the stack. With one more kiss to the tiny face, she placed Gemma back into her cot.

She stood on tip toe behind Richard and peered over his shoulder. “You have achieved a sleeping baby,” she murmured and kissed him on the back of the neck. Richard added Jack to the cot and the two parents stood watching their sleeping children. “It seems crazy that they’re only a month old. I feel like they’ve been part of our lives forever.”

Richard wrapped his arms around Layla’s waist and she leaned back against his chest. “How are you coping with all the changes?”

“I’ll admit there are times I dread going to bed because I know I’m going to be awake again in two hours. It doesn’t seem as cruel if I’m napping on the sofa, but I sleep better in bed.”

“A few more months and they should start letting you sleep for four hours at a stretch.”

“I know.” She yawned and stretched. “Letting you sleep too. I would not have survived the last month without you.”

His hands rubbed over her bare stomach. “Come on. Let’s go to bed and take advantage of every moment they’re asleep.” He placed a kiss on her shoulder, next to the strap of the ubiquitous nursing bra and let her go to sit on the edge of the bed and take off his shirt.

“I think you’re right. We should take advantage of it.” She rolled the cot into the closet and quietly shut the door.

“Layla?”

“Make love to me, Richard.” She shimmied out of her yoga pants as she walked back towards the bed.

His eyes fell from her face to the long lines of her legs and the curves of her hips. “It hasn’t been six weeks though.”

“I don’t care. I feel fine. I’ve been done bleeding for over a week. I got a shower today and I even shaved my legs. I want my husband back.” She pushed him back against the blankets and knelt over him. Richard helplessly clutched her arse. His fingers spasmed as she ground against him, rubbing against the fly of his pajama pants and his quickly responding cock. “If it hurts, I promise I’ll stop, but I have about ten minutes of energy left and I’d really like to spend them making love to you.”

His fear of hurting her waged war with his need to feel her wrapped around him again. “If it hurts even a little, we’re stopping.”

She kissed him and rubbed sinuously against his chest. “I promise,” she whispered. “Make love to me, Richard.”

He rolled her over and stood long enough to shed his pyjamas. She crawled further back on the bed as he crawled towards her and she stopped the moment she was completely on the bed. He took the few extra paces necessary to be able to look her in the eyes and gently lowered himself. Their first kiss was electric, the spark of impending sex tingling in both their bodies. She wrapped her arms around him and then stroked her hands over his back, and then that wasn’t enough. She grabbed his arse and squeezed before sliding up his back. She needed to relearn all of him.

Richard was completely focused. Her mouth was all he wanted for the first few minutes, the sensual plumpness of her lips responding to the pressure of his mouth, the wet silk of her tongue, the hard pearl of her teeth. He had been craving the freedom to make love to her with abandon for much longer than a month now, and all that frustration was concentrated down to just kisses for the moment.

Layla wrapped a leg around Richard’s hip and pressed upward, inviting him to move against her, to claim the damp heat that was growing between her legs. Richard moved his kisses from her mouth to her jaw to her throat as he rocked against the cradle of her body. She could feel his hardness rubbing against her, sliding between her folds, nudging against her clit and her breathing began to fray. She whimpered his name.

Richard didn’t have the patience to make her wait or to tease. He slipped his hand between her legs and gently stroked her, making sure she was ready. He kissed her shoulder and rolled over, grabbing the lube from the drawer of his nightstand and quickly slicked himself. He wasn’t sure he would survive if they had to stop this part way through, and he would never forgive himself for hurting her in his hurry.

Layla clung to him again as he started to press inside her. He gritted his teeth as he moved slowly, watching her eyes for the slightest hint of pain. She held her breath as he sank into her and released it carefully as he came to a halt, completely buried inside her.

“Are you hurting?” he murmured against her lips.

She suckled his bottom lip and squirmed, accustoming herself to his presence again after so long. “No pain.” She locked her ankles behind his waist and pulled up her hips with the leverage. “Now, move.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest and he obeyed her gentle order. He was careful with her, a tiny note of fear still playing in the back of his mind, and he quickly sought out her clit to stroke the delicate nub. He watched her face as the pleasure cascaded through her, and she could feel it begin to build. The tension in her thighs from constantly lifting to him, the muscles in her stomach pulling tight, the feeling like her spine was a burning fuse, all of it. She cried out his name as she felt the precipice crumbling under her feet and he quickened his pace, sure now that she would find the release she so desperately wanted.

Layla bit down on her lip to keep from screaming and waking the babies, and Richard dropped his head to her shoulder as he groaned deep in his throat. A few more snaps of the hips and he was coming too, both of them, together, in each other’s arms once more.


End file.
